


Assembly Line

by marieadriana



Series: ARROW, Inc. [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Evil Nick Fury, F/F, Gen, Multi, Secret Marriage, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:19:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marieadriana/pseuds/marieadriana
Summary: Life is already pretty complex for the members of An Teaglach Tofa -- a mission in Russia, a research facility in the Mojave Desert, an unplanned pregnancy -- but things are only going to get more complicated when the wreck of the Valkyrie is found, and a legend is defrosted.And then there's the angry guy who steals the Tesseract.  That really throws a wrench in things.(Takes place in late April/early May 2012, paralleling The Avengers.)(Tags to be updated as I write -- I welcome suggestions for tags for this and other works.)





	1. Chapter 1

Phil wasn’t at headquarters when he got the news. He wanted to be – but orders were orders.

The message came from Director Fury himself, a clipped voicemail that left the impression of being hurried – and a personal favor. “Phil.” There was a pause. “We found the Valkyrie. One of Stark’s expeditions found it in Greenland. And Phil… he’s… alive.” Phil was fairly certain he stopped breathing when he heard those words. “Never thought I’d say this but – Captain Rogers is alive. Medical’s trying to revive him now, think he’s in some sort of… cryostasis. We’re putting him off-site, in a facility for him to transition. Wanted you to hear it from me. But don’t think this means you can come running home, Agent Coulson – I need you on that mission.”

It was so like Fury to drop a dream come true into his lap… and then lock it out of reach.

Clint listened to the message with the same dumb disbelief when Phil passed the phone to him. They were sitting together on the minuscule bunk in Phil’s quarters. Clint had snuck there through the vents after most of the facility staff had gone to bed. The sneaking around had lost its appeal – if it had ever had any – because Clint was tired, and crawling through the ceiling just to get to sleep next to his husband was a pain. (Not as much of a pain as trying to sleep alone, though.) It hadn’t even been a week, and Clint was ready for this mission to end.

“Um.” Clint handed the phone back to his husband. “Are we sure he’s not playing some practical joke on us?”

“Fury?” Phil raised an eyebrow. “The man who can’t laugh?”

“Yeah… yeah, okay, that’s a stretch.” Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “Just… seems… impossible.”

Phil smiled a little. “Impossible like meeting a Prince from another realm who wields a hammer forged from the heart of a dying star?”

“When you put it like that,” Clint chuckled. But the tension in his face didn’t ease. He needed to talk to Natasha – needed it badly, but she was out of range of both comm and telepathy. Even if she’d been within range, he wouldn’t interrupt – she was undercover trying to investigate arms dealers, and he wouldn’t put her in danger by interrupting. “Maybe you should check with Maria, she’d know more, right?”

“Probably.” Phil checked the time on his phone – Fury’s message was a few hours old, which hopefully meant Maria had been briefed by now. “You mind if I do that now?”

“Nope.” Clint smiled a little and wedged himself between Phil and the wall – the bunk was almost criminally small. “I set my alarm already, I’ll scoot out of here in the morning before anyone needs you.”

Phil leaned down to kiss him, making it slow and sweet. “Maybe this weekend we should take time, head into town… rent a hotel room.” He was too tense for more than cuddling on SHIELD property – too afraid of being discovered.

“As long as you’re not busy,” Clint agreed, but his smile was forced. “I’m going to sack out, Moonbeam. Morning waits for no man.”

Phil kissed him again before settling against him and dialing Maria’s number. “Ria, it’s Phil.”

“Caller ID told me that much,” Maria said around a yawn. “I’m guessing you’re calling about the Rogers situation.” He heard a rustling noise.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No, you’re not.” Maria chuckled. Phil heard Misty murmur in the background. “No, bunny, it’s just Phil. Go back to sleep.” There was a sleepy sound of agreement. “I don’t know how much Fury told you, but we got Rogers situated in a mock hospital room. Medical thinks he’ll wake on his own in the next couple of days.”

Phil blew out a long breath. “How’s he look?”

“Look?” Maria repeated incredulously. “He looks like the photos in the damned history books, Phil. Are you seriously asking me how your childhood crush looks while you lay in bed with your husband?”

Oh. Well, that was a damned good point… and explained why Clint had gone tense beside him. “That wasn’t why I was asking. I was curious as to whether he’d aged… or sustained injury.” His lips twisted. “I wasn’t asking for some boyhood crush, Ria. I’m very happy with my spouses.”

“You’d better be,” Maria growled. He felt Clint relax minutely. “I don’t think he’s aged, and medically the only thing wrong with him is that he’s unconscious.”

“Interesting.” Phil shifted the phone to his other hand so that he could stroke Clint’s arm. “Damn, I wish I could be there.”

Maria snorted. “He’s just sleeping at this point, Phil.”

“Doesn’t matter. Something historic is happening, and I’m missing it.”

Clint nuzzled into Phil’s side. “You’ll be at HQ tomorrow. You can stop by and see him.”

“You okay with that?”

“Yes. You’re coming home to me afterwards.” Sleepy Clint, Phil decided, was one of his favorite husband flavors.

Phil smiled. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow then, Ria. Give my love to Misty, will you?”

“Always.” Maria yawned. “Now get some sleep, Chief, so the rest of us can. I’ll keep you updated if something changes.”

They ended the call and Phil scooted down into the bed, wrapping his arms around Clint. His husband was sound asleep, but Phil couldn’t help whispering to him. “They found Captain America… and he’s alive.”

~ * ~

Phil’s visit to SHIELD Headquarters on Thursday had been preplanned – a briefing of the Director of the status of the research and research staff. He’d only had the mission for six days, but it was enough to have formed impressions and noted security lapses.

Once his official business was concluded – and with a knowing smirk from Fury – Phil found himself entering the off-site ‘hospital room’ that housed the sleeping form of one Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

He looked fragile, Phil thought. Brittle. They’d dressed him in khakis and a replica SSR shirt – Phil had one just like it in his dresser at home – but it only served to make him look younger. And there was something missing…

“Where are his tags?” Phil asked the SHIELD agent on the door, a pretty redhead he didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, sir?”

“His dog tags. They should have been on a chain around his neck.”

The agent looked nonplussed. “They’re on the night stand.”

Phil nodded once before moving to the nightstand and picking up the dog tags. The pair of metal tags clinked in his hand, and he read the stamped metal curiously. One read Rogers, Steven G. and the other read Barnes, James B.

That didn’t surprise Phil at all.

Carefully, he worked the chain under the Captain’s neck and tucked the tags under his shirt. He ran his fingers through the blond hair and leaned close. “I can’t bring your Sergeant back, Captain, but I can make sure you have his tag.” He patted one large shoulder, feeling inordinately protective of the sleeping form – but unable to justify staying longer.

The agent on the door gave him a very sketchy look as he left, but Phil ignored it. Let the other agents think what they would. Probably it would be unflattering… some blather about Phil being an obsessive fanboy. That would even be partly true.

But it hadn’t been a fanboy that had made sure the Captain was wearing the only trace he could carry of his dead lover. It was a devoted husband – who hoped that, if he were ever in the terrible position of carrying on without his wife or husband, that someone else would have the kindness not to take away the symbols of that union.

~ * ~

{It’s damned good to hear your voice, dearling,} Natasha said through their telepathic link. {I miss you, you and Phil both.}

Clint stretched out on his back on the desert turf. {We miss you, too. I’m really tired of the Mojave.}

{You okay?} The connection deepened, and Clint got the impression that Natasha was shifting to press more into the ground on her end, too.

{Sort of.} There was no sense in lying to his wife. {Okay, not really. Have you guys been briefed on the Valkyrie find?}

{No? Clint, what’s going on?}

As briefly as possible, Clint filled her in – that the ship had been found, that Captain Rogers was alive but asleep, that Phil had been to see him –

{Oh, dearling.} Natasha’s mind was full of understanding. {I wish I could hug you right now. I promise you, Phil doesn’t – his thing for Captain America isn’t more important than you. Us.}

Clint scowled. {Hard not to feel like it. As soon as we got the news, Phil started scheming ways to get to HQ where the Captain is.} He sighed. {Alright, the visit was already scheduled, and I’m being a whiny brat. I know.}

{I didn’t say that.}

{You didn’t need to. I could feel you thinking it.} Clint plucked at the grass of a nearby clump of foliage. {I feel stupid.}

{You aren’t stupid, dearling,} Natasha assured him. {I might feel a little jealous myself. Phil loved Captain America first, after all… but… I don’t think he ever loved Steve Rogers.}

Clint’s eyebrows drew together. {You lost me there, Sunshine.}

{Phil loved the Captain. The one in the comics, in the movies. Loved him as a boy and a young man as a symbol of right and truth and bravery. But he got to know the man behind the mask through Director Carter, and I don’t think he loved Rogers the same way. Admired him, sure,} Natasha explained. {He seems to be an admirable guy. But from what Phil’s said… Rogers was an example to him of having a male lover, of making it work in the military. Of sacrifice. Even if he didn’t have us – I don’t think Phil would go for Rogers, not really. He respects the relationship between Rogers and Barnes too much.}

{Huh.} Clint mulled that over but couldn’t find a flaw in her reasoning. {Alright then. I’ll go back to teasing him about being a fanboy then.}

He could almost feel Natasha smile. {You do that. Put in an extra zinger for me, will you?} She waited until she’d heard his answering chuckle. {How are the fledglings? Goddess, I miss them too.}

{Lance is having a blast shadowing Phil… and there’s a running bet here, already, about when Phil gets irritated with him for following with a clipboard. Phil’s amused by it. He makes it a point to scowl at Lance sometimes, and Lance tries to look cowed. Chuckles just about burst something the first time. Chuck’s doing good work too – and he’s in sixth place in the facility’s wrestling league already. How’re your two?}

Natasha sighed. {Not doing as well. Angie’s… struggling.} At Clint’s wordless question, she sighed again. {I’m having to really watch her food intake. She… isn’t eating voluntarily.}

{Ah. Damn.}

{I didn’t realize how bad it was until the third day, and I didn’t even catch it myself… CJ did. I think we’ve got her sorted for now, but… aside from being concerned personally, this could have been a real issue professionally. If I didn’t know about her eating disorder… it’s a professional liability. I don’t know how we’re going to resolve it, either.}

{Probably exactly how you’re handling it now – with the addition of Psych.}

{Yeah, that’s going to go over real well.} Natasha sighed again. {On the plus side, CJ’s been incredible. I forget sometimes that he’s got more experience than the average SHIELD agent. Six, seven years of prerecruitment, and whatever training he had with the League… it’s no wonder he’s a damned good field agent. I tried to compliment him…}

Clint flinched. {Yeah, don’t do that. Unless it’s to say he’s a credit to me or Phil. He’s as twitchy about compliments as Phil is.}

{Have you heard from the four stuck at home? And Maria?}

{Ria’s up to her ears in administrative crap with Phil gone… Misty’s doing fine. So is the cricket. Sam and Al are working a low-level undercover op in Maryland with the FBI – nothing terribly dangerous or exciting. Raj got drafted by the science department to work on an antidote to some new bioweapon they’ve got cooking.} Clint paused. {In short, they’re all doing just fine without us.}

{I guess that means we’re doing the parenting thing right,} Natasha said after a moment. {Raising them to be strong, independent thinkers. Diane will be so proud.}

That made Clint laugh, and he relaxed into the ground. {Good way to look at it.} He felt a twinge, low in the base of his head. {I’ve about hit my limit, Sunshine. Got to go rest the neurons.}

{Alright. I love you both. Pass it on to the fledglings for me, please.}

{Only if you do the same.}

~ * ~


	2. Chapter 2

Phil had four hours, give or take, at Headquarters before he had to board the plane that would take him back to the desert. Long enough to check in with each of his fledglings and Maria, which was as necessary to his mental health as the visit to Rogers had been.

Raj was easily found in a research lab in the science section. He’d been glad to see Phil, but hadn’t wanted to abandon the experiment he had in progress. Phil settled for ruffling his hair before moving on.

Sam and Al were still on loan to the FBI, so Phil couldn’t corner them. Instead, he wrote them quick, affectionate notes that he stuffed in their lockers. 

He’d seen Maria officially that morning during his briefings with Fury, but wanted to see Ria-the-clanmate now. Unfortunately, she was tied up for at least another hour.

That left Phil free to shameless spoil Misty. He bought lunch – including brownies, because while it wasn’t donut day, the cafeteria did at least have brownies – and laid it out with cups of fresh tea before summoning the squad leader. Misty bolted the door behind her before launching herself at Phil for a tight, almost desperate hug.

“I missed you,” she mumbled into his neck. “I miss cuz and nascha and the others too, but…”

“I missed you too, grasshopper,” Phil said softly, running his hands up and down her back. It was a few minutes before they separated, and Misty was wiping at her eyes. “I was hoping you’d join me for lunch.”

Misty looked at the spread laid out on the coffee table and smiled. “You’re as bad as Mama Diane, always needing to feed me.” But she didn’t object as she made herself comfortable on the couch. “How long are you here?”

“Another couple of hours.” Phil sat down next to her, passing her a plate. “Long enough to, as Natasha says, top off my batteries.”

“How is she? We haven’t heard from her,” Misty said as she nibbled on a sandwich. It proved to be ham and cheddar. 

Phil picked up his own sandwich. “Clint says they’re fine. The official reports I’ve gotten seem innocuous enough. I’d forgotten how frustrating it is when she’s on radio silence.”

“Yeah… I’m not a fan, either.” Misty eyed him carefully as she ate. “You okay, Sensei?”

“A little rattled,” he admitted.

She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “Is this Senior Field Agent instinct, Treorai Taoiseach Phil mojo, or husband Phil gut?”

“D, all of the above?” he said with a weak laugh. “I just… I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Which this?” Misty asked, shifting so that she could lean against him. “There’s a lot of different ‘this’ going on right now. You’ll have to be more specific.”

Phil sighed and tilted his head to rest against hers. “Would if I could, m’girl. I have no idea what’s making me uneasy – not the cause or the mechanism. I just… don’t like it.”

Misty put aside her lunch and turned so that she could cup her hands around Phil’s face. “Hey. We’re all going to be okay, alright? The whole clan plus the cricket. Sure, shit’s probably coming down the pike – I mean, it’s SHIELD – but we’ll manage. Got it?”

“Got it.” Phil couldn’t help but smile at her, reaching up to cover one of her hands with his own. “But I’ll rest easier if you finish your lunch.”

“Nag.”

They were almost done eating when someone knocked at the door. Phil rose and unbolted it to let Maria in. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she seized him in a hug much like Misty had done. “Whoa, Ria, I’m okay!” Phil protested.

“I know you are. Still needed a hug.” She released him and flopped onto the couch next to Misty. “You gonna share your brownie, bunny?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Misty said easily, but broke the brownie in half anyway. “How’s life in administrative purgatory?”

Maria groaned. “I never realize how much shit you take care of, Phil, until you’re unavailable.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Phil said with a grin. He handed his brownie to Misty, who broke it in pieces to share. “You could do what I do.”

“What’s that?” Maria asked around a bite of brownie.

“Draft minions.” Phil’s grin spread. “I bet I know a handler trainee who could use some more experience reading and correcting disciplinary forms.”

“Sensei!” Misty gasped theatrically. “I thought you loved me.”

Maria chuckled and reached for Misty’s cup of tea to wash down the brownie. “He’s not wrong, bunny. You could use the experience, and I could use the help. I should probably run it by Fury.”

“Don’t bother. She still reports to me – I’ll authorize it. You want one of the others, too?” Phil asked as he rose to make more tea.

“Raj is more useful where he is… and I can’t exactly ask for Sam and Al to be pulled from an FBI op just for paperwork.” Maria glared at the brownie as though it was the reason she was overworked. “I could use Angie. Or Lance. Except you stole them.”

Phil reached over and flicked her ear. “I left you the best Scooby. Don’t bitch.” Maria rubbed her ear with mock affront.

“Hear that, ducks?” Misty leaned closer to Maria and said in a mock whisper, “Sensei thinks I’m the best Scooby.”

“Don’t tell your sibs,” Phil said solemnly as he refilled their teacups and added a third for Maria. “CJ thinks he’s my favorite.”

“He’s pretty damned sweet,” Misty agreed.

Phil sat back down and sipped from his teacup. “I wonder if I could ask for a favor.”

“Like there’s much I’d refuse you?” Misty twisted on the couch until she was leaning back against Maria and kicked her feet up onto Phil’s lap. “Whatcha need, Chief?”

“I wonder if I could ask you to watch out for Captain Rogers for me?”

Misty blinked once, then looked at Phil – really looked, the piercing gaze of hers that seemed to cut through all layers of pretense. “Still not sure which part of you is talking?” Phil shook his head slowly. “Alright. I’ll babysit the geriatric supersoldier. If,” she added, lifting one finger, “you promise me that this isn’t hero worship or a boyhood crush talking.”

“It isn’t,” Phil swore. “It’s… something else.” He looked down at the mug in his hands. “How many people in this building – hell, in this time – will look at him as a young man, and not a hero? How many really understand that he’s lost… everything… including his soulmate?” He swallowed hard. “Physically, he looks younger than you, Ria. Late twenties, maybe – if somebody looks at the lines around his eyes – maybe thirty. And he’s lost everything. When he wakes… I want someone to be there that can treat him like a man, like a person.”

A smile had been growing on Maria’s face the longer Phil spoke. “Do your spouses know you’ve adopted another fledgling?” she asked.

“I haven’t – adopted – ” 

“Did you kiss him on the forehead?” Maria prodded.

“No!”

Misty started to giggle. “You wanted to though, didn’t you? Ten bucks says he did the hair thing, the one he does to CJ,” she said to Maria.

Phil groaned. “You win. I finger-combed his hair after I put his tags on him. Whoever dressed him left them off and – well, they’re half his and half Barnes. I couldn’t let him wake without them.”

“Someday, I’m going to tell Rogers this story,” Misty threatened, “and he’s going to know that you laid claim to him before he was even awake in this century.”

~ * ~

Captain Steven Grant Rogers regained consciousness on Friday, April 20th – and a lot of agents assumed it was a prank.

Oh, his existence was officially classified – but his dramatic exit of the off-site ‘hospital room’ and appearance in Times Square meant that most agents knew something about him.

As soon as he was conscious, Fury ordered him to SHIELD headquarters under the guise of an ‘education and reentry’ program. Rogers agreed readily enough, and didn’t seem to have any problems taking orders from a black man. (Fury hadn’t expected him to, but the betting books had done a brisk business on the issue.)

By Sunday evening, Fury had to concede that his current reeducation plan – he’d entrusted that duty to Agent Hand – was not working well. And so on Monday morning, a new plan was enacted at the suggestion and insistence of Phil Coulson.

Misty smoothed her hand down the front of her uniform, then growled at herself – she was going to give her pregnancy away if she couldn’t stop touching! Still, one final check of one’s appearance didn’t seem all that likely to rouse suspicion, before being introduced to a national icon.

She paused just outside the Captain’s door, looking at the uniformed SHIELD agent standing to the left of the door. “Tell me, Agent,” she said conversationally, with a practiced and charming smile, “are you here to prevent people from getting in… or from getting out?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, just turned the knob on the door and pushed in.

Captain Rogers was seated at a desk, a large book open in front of him. From the densely packed words, she guessed it was a textbook of some sort – not what she’d have chosen, to get the Captain up to speed on… well, everything.

But that was why she was here, after all.

He rose automatically when she entered and held out his hand. She shook it – firmly, but not aggressively. “Agent Misty Summers,” she introduced herself.

He smiled – another automatic move, she thought. “Captain Steven Rogers,” he said, and gave a little embarrassed laugh. “But you knew that.”

“Yep.” Misty sat down on the edge of the desk, facing his chair – hoping by her posture to convey that this was intended to be more casual than his previous ‘briefings.’ She waved at his chair. “Sit down, please. You’re too tall, I don’t want to crane my neck up at you.” Amusement flashed through his eyes – quickly stifled – and he sat, looking at her expectantly. “So…” She tilted her head, looking at him thoughtfully. “You strike me as the kind of guy who can handle me being blunt. That okay with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Misty managed not to roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. “First off – call me Misty. Or, if you’re feeling like you want to be on the official side of casual, my callsign is Buffy.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I suppose no one’s gotten around to that particular cultural reference?”

“No, ma’am. Misty.” He flashed her a quick, apologetic grin at his lapse, which she returned.

“I’m here to take over your cultural studies,” she told him, reaching for the book he’d been reading and closing it to read the title. It was a historical text on the Vietnam War, and made her fight not to roll her eyes again. “Damn, who gave you this? What were they trying to do, have you learn every military action we’ve been in for the last seventy years, and nothing else?”

He gestured at the bookshelf in the room – filled with titles much like the one in her hands. “It’s kind of felt that way.”

Misty pushed off the desk and walked to the bookcase, tilting her head sideways to read the titles. She sighed, her blonde bangs fluttering. “Well. Some of these are probably interesting, and yeah – you’ll want to know it all eventually.” She turned to him, leaning back against the bookcase and making a concerted effort not to rest her hand on her stomach. “But you’re going to miss a hell of a lot of relevant information, if this is all you read. Do you object to broadening the scope a little?”

“No, ma—Misty.” He caught himself just in time and was rewarded with another smile.

“Alright. Let’s start with this – have you been out of this facility much?”

At that, Captain Rogers ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly at it in the back in a gesture that reminded her of CJ. “No. There seems to be some concern that I’ll be overwhelmed.”

Misty made a rude noise, causing his eyebrows to lift. “If being in the trenches in Nazi occupied France didn’t overwhelm you, I can’t think that modern DC will. Time for a field trip.” She pushed off the bookshelf and gestured at the door. “Let’s take a walk, Captain.”

The guard at the door didn’t try to stop them, Misty noted with relief. She led Captain Rogers outside and across the grounds to one of the orienteering courses – a nice, open area that Maria had assured her just this morning was free of listening devices.

She moved to sit on one of the large boulders placed strategically throughout the course, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I thought we were going for a walk.”

“We were – to here.” Misty grinned, and waved her hand around. “A nice open space where I’m sure there is no surveillance equipment and no line of sight for a lip-reader.”

Captain Rogers blinked at her, then eased himself down onto a boulder near her. “You have my attention.”

She chuckled. “Thought I might.” She shifted on the rock – not the most comfortable of perches anyway, and even less so in her condition. “I really am your new cultural tutor – and I’m going to do a damned fine job of it. Not only because you deserve it, but because Sensei – which is what I call my handler – is your biggest fan.” She smiled, a little apologetically. “I’ll admit, I come into this gig knowing a lot more about you than you know about me. It’s a little unfair… but given that a lot of what I know isn’t in the textbooks, it might make it easier for you.”

“Uh – alright.” His brows furrowed again, and Misty had to fight the urge to tell him he was adorable when he was confused. “Have I met your handler yet? Who is he?”

“His name is Agent Phil Coulson, and no – you haven’t.” Misty’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Which he’s thoroughly pissed about, by the way. He’s on assignment at one of our research facilities in the Mojave Desert, or he’d be the one having this conversation with you.” She shrugged. “Next best thing to being here himself was to assign his protege – so here I am.”

“You’re… a lot more forthcoming than the agents I’ve spoken with so far,” Captain Rogers said cautiously.

“Partly, that’s because I know we’re not being monitored,” Misty said candidly. “And partly, it’s because I don’t look at you and see a national icon.” His eyebrows lifted again. “I see a young man who’s had a hell of a shock – woken up to find out that everyone he knew is gone, and that we’re still at war. A different war, sure… but Sensei thinks – and I agree – that you had hoped war would end, when you put the Valkyrie in the ice. So to find out we’re still fighting…” Misty trailed off, watching Rogers’ face. She knew she’d been right when he nodded slowly. “I also don’t think you’re the dumb jock that some of my colleagues seem to assume you are. I figure a skinny kid from Brooklyn who managed to talk his way into Project Rebirth has a hell of a lot more going on under the hood than just strategy and tactics.”

“Thanks,” he said, with just the right tone of dryness.

She laughed outright. “I also figure you’re tired of being treated like a specimen, and that you might appreciate a friend.”

He straightened slowly from his easy sprawl and fixed his eyes on her. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he seemed to find it. He nodded once, sharply. “I would.” Steve – and now, she realized, he was Steve in her mind and no longer Captain Rogers – looked down at his hands. “You were mostly right, about everyone I know being gone… there are a few still alive, but it’s not… the same.”

“I also know,” she said hesitantly – and hoped he could hear the sincere gentleness in her tone, “that you’re still in mourning for your Sergeant.” Steve’s eyes flashed to hers, startled. “There are plenty of people in this time that argue over whether you and your Sergeant were ever lovers… but like I said, I know stuff that isn’t in the textbooks.” She debated with herself a moment before continuing. “I’m Sensei’s protege – but he was one of Director Carter’s. Peggy Carter,” she added, when Steve didn’t react. “She liked to talk about you, and he liked to listen. So I know that you loved your Sergeant. Love him,” she corrected herself. “That love doesn’t go away just because he’s… gone.”

Steve’s throat and mouth worked, but no sound escaped. He braced his hands on his knees and looked down at the grass.

“One of the positive changes that I’m sure nobody’s told you about yet,” Misty continued softly, “is that same-sex relationships – like yours – aren’t illegal anymore. Two men can get married to each other, or two women. There’s a whole lot I could teach you about sexuality but the important thing is – it’s okay, now. Not everyone’s cool with it – but then, when has everybody been cool about anything?”

Steve let out a breath like he’d been gut-punched. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

“No.” She slid off her boulder and knelt in front of his, reaching for his hands. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Steve.” She felt him jolt when she used his first name, but he didn’t say anything. “The thing is, because you guys were so good at keeping secrets, back in your day… not a lot of people believe that you two were the real thing. And I wouldn’t put it past Fury to have assigned a young female agent to you with the hopes that you’d fall madly in love with me.”

He started to pull his hands away. “I’m not—”

“I know you aren’t.” She tugged on his hands, urging him to stay in place. “I’m not interested, either. I’ve got a partner that I’m deeply in love with – but Fury doesn’t know that, and I don’t want him to.”

“Then why tell me?” He looked almost painfully confused.

Misty rose and sat herself next to him on his boulder, keeping his hands in hers. “You deserve to know. And you deserve to make the choice. If you want Fury to assign an agent that you find attractive and want to pursue – now’s the time to speak up, and we’ll find a way to get me reassigned. But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“It really, really, isn’t.”

“So maybe you’d rather spend time with somebody who’s happily involved elsewhere, but that Fury will think you’re wooing,” Misty said lightly. “I’ve got no problem with you flirting with me, and neither does my partner. It’s… a way of letting you grieve, I guess,” she added quietly. “If Fury thinks you’re single and looking, he’s going to keep sending women your way. If it looks like you’re fixated on one…” She shrugged. “These days, we call it being somebody’s beard.”

Steve looked down at their joined hands. “Your partner is really okay with this?”

“Really.” Misty squeezed his hands firmly. 

~ * ~

“So… how goes the reentry?” Phil asked Misty over the phone as he reclined on his bunk. Clint hadn’t joined him yet, but he expected his husband within the hour.

“You were right about him,” Misty sighed. “He’s… lost. There are times when he looks out the window at absolutely nothing, and it about breaks my heart.” She laughed a little. “And then he’ll turn to me after seeing something new and his eyes light up and his whole body vibrates like he’s a damned golden retriever… how the hell did they send this kid off to war? I want to stuff him in a storage locker and keep him safe.”

Phil laughed. “I feel that way about all of you, regularly.” Particularly about Misty, now that she was pregnant – but he didn’t add that. “Nobody sent him off to war, grasshopper. He begged, wheedled, and lied his way into Project Rebirth – and then went against orders, got off the stage and into the field without authorization to rescue Sergeant Barnes’s unit.”

“Right.” Misty yawned. “I forget that you know this shit. It feels like cheating to have you tell me, instead of finding out from Steve.”

“So he’s Steve now, is he?”

Misty blew a raspberry into the phone. “It’s not like that and you damned well know it.” Phil hummed in response but didn’t interrupt. “He needed a friend, and you knew that too. He’s… I like him, Sensei. And I want to introduce him to the rest of the clan. Not yet – he’s not ready for our particular brand of insanity yet – but… I’ve got a feeling he belongs with us.”

“I can’t argue with that, I felt it too.” Phil looked up as a ceiling panel shifted, revealing the tired face of his husband. “Say hi to Clint, grasshopper. He’s invading from above.”

“Hey, cuz. Careful, if you fall and break yourself or Sensei, there will be hell to pay.”

“I don’t fall from ceiling vents,” Clint protested, lowering himself down from the ceiling in a move that made his biceps stand out in the lamplight. Phil’s mouth watered. “How’s my favorite cricket?”

“Cricket’s good – but I’m jealous that I’ve been supplanted in your affections by my child,” Misty teased.

Clint chuckled as he shucked out of his tactical gear. “Nah. You’re my favorite grasshopper. It’s a narrow distinction, but it’s there.” He clambered over Phil to get to the wall side of the bed. “I’m calling husband prerogative and telling you goodnight, Buffy. We’ll check in tomorrow. Give our love to Maria and the other Scoobies, yeah?”

“Will do. Take care of each other for me.”

~ * ~

“It just – it doesn’t make sense!” Steve said, shoving the book across the table.

Misty caught it at the edge and set it back in the center. “I know.”

“How can it… how can everything be so similar, and yet so different?” This time the supersoldier’s voice had a plaintive quality.

Misty rose from her chair and circled the table until she could sit on the edge of it, facing Steve. It put her growing baby bump far too close to him – but the physical proximity seemed to reassure him. “When you were in training with the Army – what little actual training they bothered to give you – ” he looked startled at that, “—did you ever have to study a foreign culture? France, Japan, Russia? Learn about their social norms, how their families were structured, that sort of thing?”

“Sort of.” He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I see where you’re going.” He glared at the textbook. “Might as well be in a foreign country, for all that it’s got the same name as the one I died fightin’ for.” As happened sometimes when he was upset or tired, a hint of Brooklyn laced his carefully cultivated tone.

“I think it might be a little easier on you, if you stopped comparing everything about today’s world with the one you left behind,” she said gently. Steve nodded in grim defeat, and she put a hand on his forearm. “Some things are better, remember? Not everything, but…”

His hand went to his chest, touching the dog tags hanging around his neck, beneath his shirt. “Yeah. Some things are better.” 

Misty brushed past Steve on her way to his bookshelf. Her hand trailed across the backs of his shoulders in a way that was… strange, to Steve. When she turned back around – having shelved one book and selected another – she must have read something on his face. “Okay, what did I do?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to answer that. “Surprised me, I guess?”

“How?”

He reached up, touching the back of one shoulder. “You… touched.”

Misty tilted her head to one side. “Would you prefer if I didn’t?”

“I just… don’t… understand, I guess,” Steve said lamely.

She sat down on the edge of his desk and put a hand on his forearm. “I’m a tactile person, Steve. I touch people often. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that. If it bothers you, I’ll stop.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” he said slowly. “Just… shouldn’t you… what about your partner? What if someone sees?”

He’d feared she’d laugh at his concern, but she merely shook her head. “It’s a different kind of touch. Those touches – the kind I use with my partner – those aren’t something I’d be so cavalier with. But with my friends and family? Touch is important.” Misty hadn’t removed her hand. “I thought about it, and realized you probably haven’t had anyone touch you outside of medical exams and combat training in a long time. That would make me feel a little squirrelly, so I’m trying to help. If it doesn’t help or if it makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay too. One of my squadmates has a hard time being touched at all, even just like this,” Misty said, nodding down at her hand. “I find other ways to let him know I’m there, that I care about him. In situations where I’d really like to give him a hug, I touch his shoulder instead.”

“So is this… calculated to put me at ease?” Steve asked.

“No.” Misty’s hand tightened on his forearm briefly. “No, this isn’t something I’ve been instructed to do, or that some psych monkey thinks is good for you. This is pure Misty Summers. Hugs are good. Cuddles are good. Lack of hugs and cuddles make a person sad. If hugs and cuddles aren’t going to happen, hands are good. If hands are too much, fingertips are good. It’s just… my way of taking care of my people.”

Hesitantly, Steve covered her hand with his own. “I don’t actually remember the last time someone hugged me. It wasn’t… something men did, then.”

“Bullshit,” Misty said, and moved her hand so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Maybe not in public, but I can guarantee that daddies hugged their kids, and brothers hugged their brothers.”

Steve felt himself relaxing into her embrace, resting his head against her shoulder. “I never knew my dad,” he admitted. “So I don’t know if he would have hugged me at home. Mr. Barnes didn’t, but…”

“Did Sarge?” Misty asked, letting one hand come up to hold the back of Steve’s head. For all that he was a massive man, at the moment he felt small against her. “Sergeant Barnes, I mean?”

“Yeah.” Mention of Bucky didn’t make him tense up this time. “Not around other people, though.”

“Now, I’m not one to say I told you so – but didn’t I?”

Steve had to chuckle at that. “You did.” He was quiet for a moment. “Is this weird?”

Misty started to chuckle. “Steve, is anything about the situation you’re in right now not weird? It’s okay. You have carte blanche to hug me when you need it. Touch, too – whether that’s cuddling on the couch watching a documentary or putting your hand on my shoulder when you walk by. It’s cool with me. It’s cool with my partner, too, before you can ask.”

“You’re a helluva dame, Misty,” Steve sighed.

“I’ve had some pretty good teachers in how to be a good friend.” She smiled a little, and gave in to the impulse to run her fingers through his hair. “How about we put on one of those documentaries, and you can work on catching up on some of those cuddles?”

“I think I’d like that.”

* ~ *

Steve Rogers was confused.

Not about any of the things his superiors would have expected – that was fine. Once he’d accepted Misty’s suggestion that he stop trying to fit his current reality into the memory of what he’d left, his studies had progressed rapidly.

No, what confused him now was the woman herself.

He wasn’t an unobservant man, and never had been. It was part of why he’d gotten in so many fights as a kid – he couldn’t help himself from seeing. That hadn’t gone away with Rebirth – like so many things, it had only gotten stronger. He’d used that with the Howlies… and he was using it again now on his first friend in this new time.

Steve had been raised by a nurse – a nurse that worked at a Catholic hospital in an Irish neighborhood during what they were calling now ‘The Great Depression’ and Steve had just called ‘hard times.’ He’d seen women display the same signs as Misty. The fluttering of her hand near her midriff. Random instants of nausea. A slight shift in her gait that only an artist – or a tactician – would notice. 

If the girl wasn’t in a family way, he’d eat his hat.

Well, since SHIELD hadn’t seen fit to outfit him with a hat, he might have to eat a different article of clothing. Shoe leather, maybe. Except the shoes he’d been given weren’t actually made of leather… but that was as near as nevermind. It wouldn’t be an issue, because Misty was definitely with child.

And hiding it.

That bothered Steve. He understood her not wanting to tell him – for all that he considered her a friend, they had only known each other a few days. But he didn’t think, watching her interact with other agents, that it was public knowledge at SHIELD. If it had been, he thought she’d either have been shifted to desk duty, or at least put in a uniform tailored to her changing shape. Probably both. (He hoped both. He hoped that SHIELD was the kind of organization that treated its female agents with respect, but he wasn’t sure how much he believed that.)

She didn’t wear a ring, and though she spoke of a partner – it was always vague. Carefully vague, Steve thought – it reminded him of the way he’d edited his own speech when talking about Bucky. That led him to think this partner was someone Misty wasn’t supposed to be in a relationship with, which would explain why she was keeping the babe a secret. She’d told him that relationships between two men and two women were legal, so he didn’t think that was it – besides, how could she be pregnant if she were in a relationship with a woman?

It seemed unlikely that the father of her baby was the mysterious handler-Sensei that she spoke of. He was obviously important in her life, but Steve didn’t get the impression that it was romantic love. He’d gathered from her comments that she was part of a squad that included several male agents – was one of them her missing partner?

It was a topic he worried over between lessons, when Misty left him alone with a book or a punching bag to return to the life she had outside the narrow confines of his reeducation program. Something kept Misty from joyously celebrating the life growing inside of her – and Steve wanted to know what that was. And then, he decided fiercely as he battered another punching bag to the ground, he’d do whatever he could to remove that obstacle, so that his new friend could have the happiness she – and her baby – deserved.

* ~ *


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word to the wise -- here there be canon divergence. Obviously not everything in The Avengers will be the same in this 'verse, and that will include minor changes as well as big ones. (In case, you know, the addition of a druid didn't clue you in on that.) My goal here is tell the story of the same time period the movie covers without this winding up being 'Marie fits in her story around Joss's excellent narrative.' 
> 
> That being said, all due credit to the lines I've borrowed from the movie. They are awesome. I wish I could lay claim to them. Instead, I hope instead I can do them justice.

They had been at the Mojave research facility for fifteen days when the energy readings that Doctor Selvig was picking up began to… alarm.

Phil notified Fury within an hour. By the fourth hour, he’d begun evacuation of nonessential personnel.

By the eighth hour, evacuation had expanded to include all on-site data and personnel.

When the Director deigned to join them – with Maria in tow – during the twelfth hour, Phil had worked up quite a head of irritation to hide his growing panic – because while he and Lance were flitting about the massive facility organizing the evacuation… Clint and Chuck were in the lab itself, watching over Selvig, his fellow scientists, and that damned cube.

“How bad is it?” were not words Phil wanted to hear from the Director.

He mastered his irritation, ignoring the sympathetic look from Maria. “That’s the problem, sir. We don’t know.” He led Fury and Maria into the facility, briefing them in the brisk, professional tones. He saw Lance hovering near by, wished he could take the time to reassure his fledgling. Wished he believed his own reassurance. “Doctor Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract twelve hours ago.” Twelve very long hours – eight longer than it should have taken the Director to arrive on scene, if he’d given the problem the weight it deserved.

“NASA didn’t authorize Selvig to go to test phase,” Fury objected mildly. 

“He wasn’t testing it.” Phil didn’t rub his forehead, although the tension headache was spiking. “He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.” Clint had said the scientist’s surprise was almost comical. Almost, because it was tempered by rising apprehension. Still… if they made it out of this safely, Clint might find a way to tease the astrophysicist for shouting a string of expletives that included ‘Odin’s Beard.’

Maria paused mid-step. “It just turned itself on?” Her eyes slid to Phil’s. He didn’t have a chance to answer her.

“What are the energy levels now?” Fury asked.

“Climbing.” Rapidly. “When Selvig couldn’t shut it down, we ordered the evac.” Phil wanted his people – and he considered every single one of these agents his people now, and had the moment Fury had put him in command here – out. He wanted them, their tech, and their data far, far from that damned cube.

“On what grounds?”

Phil grit his teeth. “My gut, sir.”

Fury’s eye roamed over Phil. He could argue – Phil barely had the authority to do what he’d done. He should have gotten approval for it… if this wound up being a false alarm, the evacuation would cost them time and money. But it wasn’t worth the fight. “How long to get everyone out?”

“Campus should be clear in the next half hour.” All that was left was the most classified projects and their respective scientists, and a few agents who had volunteered for stevedore duty. 

“Do better.”

Phil didn’t scream, but it was a near thing. He pivoted on his heel and stalked away, gesturing imperiously for Lance to follow him. Lance waited until they were out of earshot. “You know he was out of line, right? You’ve pulled of a fucking miracle to get this far, Chief. Nobody could expect more.”

“He does.” Phil’s tone was clipped, abrupt. “So do I.” He halted and drew in a deep breath. “Sorry, crann taca.” Phil closed his eyes for a moment. “I don’t mean to snap.”

“If it helps, I can take it.” Lance touched Phil’s arm. “Snap, snarl, bite, growl. I’m cool with it. Just make sure you tell Clint and Nat that it’s, like, cathartic. I’d rather they not decide I need to die for irritating you.”

The snorting laugh surprised Phil, but he’d needed it. “Right.” He straightened his shoulders. “Let’s get these people out of here.”

~ * ~

Maria strode beside Fury, trying not to think about the number of people still in the building – and that three of them were clanmates very dear to her. As a result, she almost missed Fury’s order.

“I need you to make sure the Phase Two prototypes are shipped out.”

She wanted to gape at him – couldn’t avoid looking startled. “Sir, is that really a priority right now?” There were lives at stake, and he was worried about weapons? 

The blue shimmer around his eye was more pronounced in the dark of the hallway. “Until such time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on. Clear out the tech below. Every piece of Phase Two on a truck and gone.”

“Yes, sir.” But Goddess, she hated to follow that order. She looked around, sizing up the available agents. Most of those suitable for hauling tech around had already been drafted by Phil for his evacuation, leaving her with few choices. Her eyes landed on two agents she vaguely recognized – thought they were from Area 51. “With me,” she ordered, crooking her finger at them. Both leaped to her aid. Had to be Area 51 agents… nobody else had that same sort of puppy-enthusiasm.

Fury continued into the lab without her. “Talk to me, doctor,” he commanded.

Erik looked up from his observation of the Tesseract. “Director,” he acknowledged stiffly. He would never be entirely comfortable with SHIELD – never forget the power they wielded over his research and his life.

“Is there anything we know for certain?”

The astrophysicist snorted. “The Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all.” It was chilling, in point of fact. “The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… misbehaving.”

If Fury thought it was odd that Erik had assigned the object a gender, he didn’t remark upon it. “How soon until you pull the plug?”

Frustration at the director’s sheer ignorance flooded Erik. “She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on.” He managed not to call Fury an idiot – to his face – but it should have been obvious. “If she reaches peak level…”

“We’ve prepared for this, doctor,” Fury tried to soothe. “Harnessing energy from space.”

“We don’t have the harness,” Erik snapped. “Our calculations are far from complete. Now she’s throwing off interference, radiation. Nothing harmful—” yet “—just low levels of gamma radiation.”

Fury’s eye flickered – this time in an entirely human manner, no celestial blue addition. “Those can be harmful.” He glanced around the lab at the scientists working, the agents standing guard. “Where’s Barton?”

“The hawk?” Erik smirked, just a little. He’d come to enjoy Barton’s company – the snarky agent reminded him of Jane’s intern Darcy. “Up in his nest, as usual.” He gestured over his shoulder at the high hide that Barton had taken as his own.

“Agent Barton, report.”

~ * ~

Clint’s eyes were dancing from the cube to Selvig to the other scientists. He’d been watching constantly since the initial energy spike twelve hours ago – watching and debating. He wanted to get the hell out of the facility. Get himself, his husband, his clanmates – hell, every living creature he could lay hands on – as far away from this thing as he could. Every instinct honed by SHIELD and the Goddess was telling him this was bad news bears… but it was also whispering that if he didn’t stick around… if he didn’t monitor the situation and act accordingly, that shit would go down even worse.

(Someday he might forgive himself for listening to that whisper.)

(Maybe.)  
The cube, to Clint’s horror, was flickering and sparking with a light he thought he recognized – because it matched the dangerous glint he’d seen in Fury’s eye from time to time.

{Mama,} Clint sent to the Goddess, hoping She could hear him from his vantage point in the lab, {is this as bad as I think it is?}

\\\It is not good, my archer.//

The touch of the Goddess calmed some of his panic – but not all of it. {I think I’ve probably said it before, but You’re amazing at understatement, Mama.} 

Fury arrived in the lab to confer with Selvig, and Clint’s eyes were draw to him like a lodestone. The flicker was more pronounced now, and it concerned Clint. (Alright, it more than concerned him – it fucking petrified him, but he didn’t have time to deal with that particular reaction right now, so he shoved it in the same tiny box where he was storing his abject terror over Phil being in the same zip code as a fluctuating Tesseract, and carried on with his duty.) When Fury summoned him, he rappelled down from his hide and joined the Director, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb those still working on the Tesseract.

“I gave you this detail so that you could keep a close eye on things.” Fury’s voice wasn’t exactly angry – but it wasn’t pleased, either. Clint wasn’t sure what the tone was exactly.

“Well, I see better from a distance.” Did Fury really expect him to be able to watch the entire lab from the ground? He was supposed to be monitoring more than just Selvig – but then, logic hadn’t had much sway in Fury’s expectations lately, had it? 

Fury’s gaze made him uneasy – uneasier. (Goddess, Clint missed Natasha. He wanted to hear her tease him about making up another word.) “Are you seeing anything that might set this thing off?”

“No one’s come or gone. Selvig’s clean – no contacts, no IMs.” Lance had done a thorough job of vetting all the scientists, not just Selvig. He might not be the level of hacker that Angie was, but he was no slouch. “If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn’t at this end.”

“At this end?” Fury repeated.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “The cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Doors open from both sides.”

His observation to Fury proved prophetic – and Clint fucking hated being a prophet. He’d rather be the paranoid nutjob who overprepares than be fucking right about shit like this – particularly when it involves a steaming, sweating, brooding otherworldly being suddenly appearing holding a glowing weapon – and pointing it in his direction.

\\\Boghdoir! Move!//

Clint didn’t need the Goddess’s voice in his mind – he was already in motion. He leapt to intercept the attack, knocking Fury out of the way and consequently avoiding damage himself. He heard Chuck bellow and charge and looked up in time to see his clanmate tossed carelessly aside by the greasy, smoking figure. 

“Sir! Put down the spear!” Fury ordered.

Clint wanted to roll his eyes. Did the Director really think this – creature – was just going to roll over and obey? He drew his pistol, not sure exactly what good it would do, and joined the melee. Between the gunfire and the blasts from whatever the glowing weapon was, it was pandemonium – and the weird dude was advancing on Clint now.

The last thing Clint remembered was hearing the sallow man tell him he had heart – before the glowing weapon touched him, and he knew no more.

~ * ~

Chuck watched through a haze of pain as the spooky fucker somehow – and Chuck didn’t dare speculate how, not working through what he knew damned well was a concussion, some cracked or broken ribs, and probably some other damage – brainwashed his clanmate in the space of a heartbeat.

He watched Clint’s eyes change color – watched the bastard who identified himself as Loki of Asgard (and didn’t it just beat all that the last time Chuck had gotten this beat up it had been the fucker’s brother?) tapped that glowing spear-scimitar-scepter thing on the chests of several other agents, and somehow… somehow… stole them.

He had no idea if he was screaming aloud, or if it was all in his head – but when Loki took Erik Selvig, Chuck knew the time for panic was past, and the time for getting the hell out of here was now.

Then the body that looked like Clint – it wasn’t Clint, it was just Clint’s body, not his mind, Chuck had to believe that – fired a bullet at the Director, and Chuck hauled his broken body up and out.

It was a chaotic, jumbled mess of an exit – he’d never remember who supported who, and exactly how they managed to get out… but they did.

He heard over the comms as the man who had been Clint fired at Maria. Heard Maria return fire. Heard them get away – and then the fucking building imploded, and Chuck couldn’t think of anything more except getting as many people out of the blast zone as possible.

Hearing Phil’s voice over the comm after the worse of the noise died down was a relief so heady Chuck thought he might pass out – and surprisingly, hearing the Director was almost as powerful. 

“The Tesseract is with a hostile force,” Fury said with what Chuck thought was admirable calm. “I have men down. Hill?”

“A lot of men still under. Don’t know how many survivors.” Maria’s voice wasn’t as calm, but there was steel in it. Chuck thanked the Goddess – and whatever other deity might be listening – that Phil had gone with his instincts and started the evacuation when he had. There hadn’t been many agents left in the building by the time it blew.

“Sound the general call,” Fury ordered. “I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that brief case.” Chuck might not be a fan of Fury’s, but it was hard not to feel galvanized by that… the man had gravitas, he had to admit.

“Roger that.” Maria’s response was automatic and formal – even as she spoke, she was taking action and ordering the people nearest her to begin work.

“Coulson. Get back to base,” Fury continued. “This is a level seven.” He paused, just a beat. “As of right now, we are at war.”

Chuck felt those words settle in his bones and knew he wouldn’t be alone in that. He was a former Marine, as was Maria. Phil’d been an Army Ranger. War was – it was a big word. Heavy with expectations.

He thought about that as he worked his way towards where Maria was shifting rubble. He found Lance along the way and didn’t bother to be stoic, yanking his squadmate to him for a hug. Lance didn’t fight it either, clasping Chuck just as fiercely. It hurt like hell – those ribs were for sure cracked – but it didn’t stop him. Pain meant he was alive. Pain from hugging a clanmate meant they were both alive. “He has Clint,” Chuck said immediately. “Loki. He took – he took Clint.” 

“I know,” Lance murmured. “I heard Fury tell Maria he was compromised.” And though they weren’t alone, Lance dropped his head to Chuck’s shoulder for a moment, drawing comfort from his clanmate. “We’ll get him back, cumainn.” The squad second nodded, not trusting his voice. “Fury’s on a plane headed east. Back to HQ, I think. Phil was going to make some calls, and then do the same. I vote we find laoch scail, and get our people out of this hole.”

~ * ~

Phil was no stranger to bad news.

But the inky-dread-cold-terror-roaring-fear-bleak-wrath that drowned him when he heard Fury say ‘Barton’s been compromised’ was new.

He kept up his facade of calm somehow, as he began making arrangements to get himself back to headquarters. He didn’t want to leave – wanted to organize the rescue operation. Phil couldn’t do that, not without violating his orders… and right now, orders were all that were keeping him going.

Lance tried to help, but Phil sent him to find Chuck and Maria. He couldn’t accept the comfort. Not yet. Not until he was certain he could keep from shattering.

Half his heart was under the control of a madman, and the other half was on the far side of the globe, and Phil had to contact her – had to be the one to tell their wife that their husband was compromised, that no trace of Clint remained in the body that they both loved – that his hand had pulled a trigger in the direction of Director Fury, had fired on Maria – that he’d warned the target of Fury’s tactics, that somehow Clint’s tactical mind was being harnessed by their enemy even though it was obvious that no trace of his heart and soul remained in control – 

Phil forced himself to take a deep breath, then another. There was no time for that.

He found space in the office building they’d commandeered – found a cubicle farm with several bordering offices. That would suffice for his current needs. There were agents at the desks, trying to salvage data and make a plan – but he hoped that having people around would prevent him from losing control entirely. With shaking hands, he found the phone number Lance had given him – a phone number he shouldn’t have, and shouldn’t use, but was dialing anyway.

On the other side of the world, on the third floor of a building in Russia, a cell phone rang.

“Um,” CJ whispered into the comm. It was only he and Angie on the line – Natasha hadn’t wanted to risk a wire being found. “I don’t think that’s part of the plan.”

“No shit,” Angie whispered back. 

The directional mike that CJ had on the scene was sufficient for him to hear it was Phil on the phone – and that wasn’t good. Unquestionably not good – because Phil was supposed to be in New Mexico at the research facility with Clint and Lance and Chuck, not breaking protocol in a big way to call Natasha… which meant that whatever shit was going down, it was big. Really big. Like, tyrannosaurus big. Maybe even Godzilla big. And fuck, CJ thought to himself – now he was starting to mentally babble like Clint.

Luchkov was holding the phone up to Natasha’s ear – which put him far too close to the Black Widow, really, but he didn’t seem to appreciate the danger.

“We need you to come in,” Phil said to his wife – no, to Agent Romanoff, he corrected himself. Couldn’t think of her as Natasha right now, not and maintain any level of functionality.

It took every ounce of decades of training to keep Natasha from showing her surprise – and fear. “Are you kidding? I’m working!”

Phil closed his eyes, reaching for calm. “This takes precedence.”

“I’m in the middle of an interrogation and this moron is giving me everything.” She glared at Luchkov. “Look, you can’t pull me out of this right now.” Please, dear Goddess, let whatever is going on not be so critical that it overrode a mission – because the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

He swallowed hard. “Natasha.” The softness in his tone was far more of the husband than the handler speaking, but he couldn’t rein it in. “Barton’s been compromised.”

A surge of emotion coursed through Natasha so rapidly – and potently – that her breath caught. “Let me put you on hold.”

And then CJ and Angie were treated to a display of controlled violence that was both breathtaking and disturbing. It didn’t even look like work, CJ thought – Natasha fucking danced through the enemies, until she had disabled the last of them and grabbed her shoes and the phone off the floor. “Where’s Barton now?” she demanded. Keep it professional, she thought to herself. Phil had used their surnames, which meant either he was at risk of being overheard, or he thought their communications weren’t safe.

“We don’t know.”

Fuck that. “But he’s alive.” And she’d find that out for herself as soon as she could get to ground – get to Gaia. 

“We think so,” Phil said tightly. “I’ll brief you on everything when you get back. But first… we need you to talk to the big guy.” There was a commotion in the background where Phil was – Natasha heard him speak to someone, probably another agent.

“You know Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me.” He’d never forgiven her for Natalie Rushman – but then, she hadn’t made much of an effort to earn his trust. She enjoyed Pepper’s company, but Stark always made her feel… tired.

“No, I’ve got Stark. You get the big guy,” Phil repeated, and she heard a door shut.

“Bozhe moi,” she breathed. The curse in her native tongue wasn’t all that appropriate anymore – she believed in a Goddess rather than a God – but it slipped out before she could stop it. “Phil, are you alone now?”

“Yes, love.” His voice was no longer controlled – it was tight with unshed tears, deep with desperation. “Natasha, it’s Thor’s brother Loki – he brainwashed Clint somehow, just… taken him. Erik Selvig too, and a couple other agents. He’s got the Tesseract, and he… he’s talking like he wants to conquer the world.”

Natasha stopped in her downward climb – leaned against the wall. “Well.” She pressed her hand to her chest, just over her heart. Surely the pain there was in her mind? “He’ll be disappointed to discover that Gaia will not allow that – and She has very effective Warriors.”

“I think that’s why he took Clint,” Phil confessed softly. “Loki said, when he took Clint – ‘you have heart’. I think… Nat, I think it was targeted. A room full of scientists and agents and he went straight for the Warrior of Gaia first… I can’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

“Yeah.” Natasha forced herself to continue down the stairs. “Yeah, I’d have to agree with you.”

Phil closed his eyes again, this time to hide from her pain as well as his own. “I have to get on a plane, get to headquarters, get to Stark. You’ve got to get to Banner in Calcutta. I expect we’ll all be headed to the helicarrier.”

“Seven, eight hours,” Natasha estimated, “before I can look you in the eye when I tell you this isn’t your fault.”

“I know that—”

“Don’t lie to me, loverling. You’re trying to work out in your head how this is your fault, how you could have prevented it,” Natasha whispered, too distraught for more volume. “I know you too well for you to pretend you aren’t. Just – just stop.” She felt CJ draw closer to her, having packed up his sniper’s nest… after all, the mission was well and truly over now. Angie probably wasn’t far behind him. “This isn’t your fault.” With her feet bare, she could already feel the faint connection to Gaia, though she didn’t interrupt her conversation with her husband to commune with the Goddess. “Be angry, be scared, be worried – but for fuck’s sake, Phil – don’t be guilty.”

“Nat—”

CJ snatched the phone from Natasha’s hand. “Chief… I’ll be brutally honest here.” Phil stopped speaking. “We’re gonna be depending on you a hell of a lot, which means you gotta keep it together. You can have a crisis of faith in yourself after we get Clint back safe, okay? In the meantime, you cannot let yourself feel guilt about this. You can’t,” he repeated, and his voice broke.

“Alright, faireoir,” Phil agreed, his voice soft. “I’ll… I’ll do my best.”

Natasha took the phone back from CJ and dropped her shoes on the ground so that she could draw the young man to her. “He’s right,” she whispered. It comforted her more than she’d expected – more than she’d admit – that CJ curled into her, burrowing his face into her hair. “After he’s home, we can fall apart. I’ll bring vodka. You can make double chocolate brownies.”

“And we’ll pin him to the bed and inspect every inch of him,” Phil replied just as softly. “It’s a date.” He cleared his throat. “I have to get to work, love. So do you.”

“Yeah.” She pressed a kiss to the side of CJ’s head because she wanted to be able to do it to Phil. “I love you. Love you both.”

They signed off and Natasha tucked the phone into one of CJ’s pockets – what she was wearing was critically short of pockets. He stayed huddled against her. Angie approached cautiously. They weren’t in the best part of town, but it was empty – Luchkov’s men had seen to that before the meet. Angie crept up to them and wormed her way into Natasha’s embrace, until she had one Scooby under each arm and her head resting against them. “We should get to the extraction point, get to the jet. We’re to head to Calcutta and persuade Banner to join us.”

CJ shook his head. “Not yet. You need to talk to the Goddess, and I’m not done cuddling.”

Natasha ran her fingers through his hair. “Can you cuddle while I commune?” He nodded against her. “Alright. Let’s just sit down then – this isn’t grassy land, but it’s bare and that’s all I need.” The three of them sank to the dirt together, and Natasha wound up with CJ nearly in her lap and Angie curled up beside her. She patted both of them before closing her eyes and turning her attention to her Goddess. {Mother, I am here.}

\\\My daughter.// With just those words, knowledge rushed into Natasha’s soul. The Goddess had not been able to prevent Clint’s brainwashing, and could no longer contact his mind. She knew that Clint was alive, could feel him still in the astral web of Her Druids and Warriors, but was unable to reach through the barrier of extraterrestrial force that held him. She regretted deeply that She could not ease Natasha’s pain, or that of their treorai. She was putting out the Call to Her Druids and Her Warriors, asking for them to report to Catriona Alanna, M’inion Nat, or Treorai Phil during this event – and She offered a balm of unconditional love and trust for Natasha.

{You’re sure he’s alive?} Natasha asked, not bothering to hide her pain and desperation from the Goddess.

\\\I am entirely certain, m’inion. That is not something that could be obscured from me,// Gaia promised. \\\There is little else, however, that I can assure you of at present. In the absence of a superior plan, I suggest that you comply with the orders from your director.//

Natasha nodded, though she knew Gaia didn’t exactly see her. {I agree. But if You do come up with something better, You will let us know?}

\\\Of course.// The Goddess paused. \\\Be cautious with the gamma scientist, my daughter. He has little reason to trust SHIELD. I believe him to be necessary to this effort, however.//

{Yes, Mother.} Natasha let herself just soak in the Goddess’s touch a moment longer – knowing she would need this moment, need the reserve of calm in the coming storm. {I don’t think I’ve ever said it… thought it, but… not used the words. I just… want You to know… that I love You.}

\\\As I love you, my daughter,// the Goddess answered softly. More emotion swelled between them. \\\Carry my regard with you as you work – and know that I am well pleased with thee. Blessed be.//

~ * ~


	4. Chapter 4

Phil used the small measure of privacy and illusion of time to place a second call – one as necessary as his first. “I need you here,” Phil said to Catriona the moment that she answered her cell phone. “Or with m’inion,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Treorai.” The worried, tense tone of the druid’s voice told Phil she was at least partially aware of the situation. “Gaia alerted me to boghdoir’s condition. I cannot locate him for you. The magic of another realm veils him from Gaia’s sight.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Phil said quietly. He had to keep this call short, because he was needed in eight dozen places at once – but he’d gotten away to inform ‘Agent Romanoff’ of ‘Agent Barton’s’ condition, and he’d use every inch of slack that gained him. “I’m not calling because you’re a druid or because you’re the High Priestess. I’m calling because you’re our clansister, and—and we need you.”

Catriona’s breath sighed out. “I know that you do, treorai, and I am not denying your request but… how am I to provide solace to the clan, or assistance in locating Clint, when I must be kept away from Director Fury?”

“I don’t know,” Phil murmured. “Especially considering I’ll practically be on him like glue, but – we need you. I need you,” he added, and his voice broke just slightly. Phil leaned back against the closed door of the office he’d commandeered. If he’d had time, he’d have had Lance sweep it for bugs – he didn’t trust any SHIELD property at this point – but then time was something he was perilously short on.

The phone in his hand made an odd noise and he pulled it from his ear to look at it, seeing that the call was disconnected at the same instant that he was no longer alone in the office. Fragile pale arms snaked around him. “I am here, treorai,” Catriona murmured. Had she been tall enough, she’d have tucked his head into her shoulder and rocked him – but she had to settle for pressing her hands against his back beneath his jacket, holding him in a tight hug. The catch in his voice had been enough to convince her that he was alone – and that he truly did need her.

Phil was stiff in her arms, not taking the comfort she offered – sucking in a breath that wanted to turn into a sob. He couldn’t break – not yet. Not until it was over. Not until he had his husband back, his wife safely home too.

Catriona pulled away when she realized how rigidly he was holding himself and looked up into his eyes. “Very well.” She wanted to soothe and comfort… but she could tell from the wild look in his eyes that it wasn’t tenderness which Phil needed now. “Tell me what I can do, taoiseach.”

“Stay close?” he suggested. “I don’t… I have no idea what’s coming, Catriona.” Not knowing was more terrifying than having a clear enemy. “Why would an Asgardian want to conquer Earth? Why steal the Tesseract – and Clint?”

“I have no answers for you,” Catriona said very quietly. “I can speak to the other druids, and see if there is any lore among us that may help. Perhaps there are tales recorded by The Blue Bard, or known to The Ancient Astronomer. I will do what I can, treorai.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “I know you will.” After a deep breath, he took her hand, squeezing it tightly – it was all the physical comfort he dared accept, for fear of losing control.

“Worry not for my comfort, treorai. Return to your duties… I shall be nearby, should you need me.” She tilted her head to one side. “Are there injured to treat, treorai? Would I be of use as a Healer?”

“We might need your Gift,” Phil advised. “It would be wise to conserve it.”

She drew herself up to her full height and met his eyes. “I do know how to triage. More importantly, I am a fully qualified doctor… and it is my duty to assist.”

Recognizing a futile battle, Phil pulled out his phone. “Fine. But you’re sticking with Maria – or Chuck, or Lance – I’m not just setting you loose.”

“I am a grown woman,” Catriona protested. “I do not require supervision.”

“You are my responsibility, little one.” Phil reached for her, cupping his hand around her cheek. He couldn’t accept her comfort, but he could offer it. “As your clanchief and your friend, it is my duty to make sure you’re safe. I don’t know all the agents here. I can’t count on personal loyalty preventing them from notifying Fury that you’re here – not unless you’re with someone I trust. I need to know that my people are safe, Catriona. Give me that much.”

Catriona leaned into his touch, lifting her hand to cover his. “I will do as you wish.”

~ * ~

“You need to call home,” Chuck said to Maria during a five-minute break. They’d freed another trapped agent and sent him off to the triage tent, and now were hydrating and bolting down ration bars.

“I don’t have time—”

Chuck cut her off with a raised hand. “Stop thinking as deputy director, and start think like Misty’s ducks. What’s she going to think, when she hears about this – and she will – but you haven’t called?”

Maria’s eyes went wide and the blood drained from her face. With no further objection she yanked her phone out of her pocket and dialed. “Bunny?”

“Oh, thank the Goddess,” Misty breathed into the phone. “Ducks, are you hurt?”

“I’m a little banged up, but nothing serious,” Maria said, closing her eyes and leaning back against the concrete barricade that was service as a backrest. “Lance is pretty much unharmed. Phil too. Chuck got banged up worse than I did, but won’t give it a rest. I’ll get him to the medics as soon as I can.”

There was a long, loaded pause. “And cuz?”

“Taken,” Maria said, rubbing her forehead. “Some kind of … instant brainwashing. Physically he looked undamaged but… psychologically, there was no shred of our Clint in him.”

Misty sat down hard on the nearest flat surface – the coffee table in their apartment. Taken. Clint was not just a prisoner of war but it sounded a hell of a lot like he was also a prisoner in his own mind. “How’s Sensei?” She was proud of herself for keeping her voice level – but she was fighting a losing battle against nausea and panic.

The senior agent sighed. “I haven’t seen him yet. I’m on search and rescue – there were agents trapped when the facility imploded. Phil’s supposed to be headed to headquarters soon – you can probably meet him there and get an update.”

“Are you coming home, ducks?”

“Not yet. Not until – not until everyone’s accounted for.” Whether that was a rescue or a recovery. “I don’t know how long it’s going to take. It’s all hands on deck – he called in everybody from Area 51, too.” Maria sighed. “I’m not sure if that’s a help or a hindrance.”

That startled a short laugh out of Misty. “They’re young and enthusiastic, ducks. Let them do the heavy lifting. And… and be careful, alright? I need you to come home.”

“I know.” Maria hadn’t felt this conflicted between duties in a very long time. Her duty to SHIELD was clear… but her duty to Misty was to get home – safe – as quickly as possible. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah. I’m at home… I was waiting for someone to call me in, but I might just get dressed and go in anyway.”

“I know I shouldn’t ask…” Maria said hesitantly, “but I’d… I’d feel a lot better if it you were with somebody else. One of the Scoobies, or Phil when he gets there… or Captain Rogers. Just… just not alone.”

Misty sighed. “Give me a little bit longer to get my head on straight, and I’ll go in. I’m safe in our apartment, ducks.”

“I know. You’re safe at SHIELD too, but that doesn’t mean I won’t worry,” Maria admitted.

“Cricket and I are good, I promise.” Misty wished she could reach out to touch Maria. “We’ll stay safe if you do.”

Maria glanced around, but no one was paying her any attention… and Chuck was busily not listening. “I love you,” Maria said softly. 

She never tired of hearing it. “I love you too.”

~ * ~

Natasha, CJ, and Angie were met by a full SHIELD team in Calcutta – something Natasha felt was overkill. Sure, the Hulk was dangerous… but it wasn’t the Hulk they had to deal with right now. Thankfully her reputation preceded her and no one argued when she laid out her plan to lure Banner away from the center of the city – to speak with him alone, and try to convince him to help them.

She was waiting for him when her little ally – an adorable child that twinged Natasha’s maternal instincts – succeeded in getting Banner there. “You know,” she began, letting him catch sight of her, “for a man who’s supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle.”

He didn’t look surprised to see her – just resigned. “Avoiding stress isn’t the secret.”

“Then what is it?” she prompted. “Yoga?”

Banner ignored the question. “You brought me to the edge of the city… smart. I assume the whole place is surrounded?”

She had to give him credit for seeing through the tactic. “Just you and me,” she lied.

He didn’t look convinced. “And your actress buddy, is she a spy too? Do they start that young?”

It was a measure of how stressed she was that she answered. “I did.”

An eyebrow winged up. “Who are you?”

She debated giving him a false name and rejected it as quickly as the thought occurred. “Natasha Romanoff.” She bit off the last syllable because she wanted – ached – to add ‘Barton Coulson’ at the end, and didn’t dare.

“Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff?” Banner asked, his eyes on hers. “Because that’s not going to work out for everyone.”

“No. No, of course not.” Natasha didn’t correct the title, though it grated. She wasn’t a Miss. Even if he didn’t want to call her an agent, she wasn’t a Miss, and right now – with her brain full of worry over Clint and a fierce need to get home to Phil – she wanted to be acknowledged as a Missus. “I’m here on behalf of SHIELD.”

“SHIELD,” Banner repeated – and the word curdled in his mouth. “How did they find me?”

She smiled – tried to look reassuring but felt herself overshooting the mark. “We never lost you, doctor. We’ve… kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent.”

“Why?”

Natasha knew why she’d done it – why her clanmates had done it. She was less sure as to SHIELD’s official motivation. “Nick Fury seems to trust you.” And didn’t that just beat all. “But now I need you to come in.”

That damned eyebrow went up again. “What if I said no?”

“I’ll persuade you,” she said with a flirty twist of her lips – and had absolutely no idea how she could do that. From what she’d seen at Culver a year ago, Banner wasn’t driven by the usual motives she’d exploit. 

“And what if the… other guy… says no?”

She couldn’t entirely control her reaction to that – because for all she trusted Gaia’s assertion that the Hulk would not harm her, he was scary as hell. “You’ve been more than a year without an incident. I don’t think you want to break that streak.”

Banner reached out to touch a piece of furniture in the shack – and when he pushed it, Natasha realized it was a cradle. Her heart ached in sympathy when he said, “I don’t always get what I want.”

“Doctor, we’re facing a potential global catastrophe.”

He laughed a little. “Well, those I actively try to avoid.”

She pulled up a photo on her cell phone and held it out to him. “This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet.” And it’s the reason my husband is dancing to a puppet master’s strings, she thought to herself.

“What does Fury want me to do?” Banner asked incredulously. “Swallow it?”

Her lips twitched involuntarily, but she shoved her amusement away. She hadn’t expected to like Banner. “Well, he wants you to find it.” And Clint. “It’s been taken. It emits a gamma signature that’s… too weak for us to trace. There’s no one that knows gamma radiation like you do,” she added, and wasn’t exaggerating. He had to be top of his field, for Gaia to refer to him as ‘the gamma scientist.’ “If there was, that’s where I’d be.”

Patent disbelief colored Banner’s face. “So Fury isn’t after the monster?”

“Not that he’s told me.”

His lips pursed. “And he tells you everything?”

Not a chance in Hell, Natasha thought to herself… and the stresses of the day started to get to her. She was tired of this verbal fencing, tired of the game. Just… tired. “Talk to Fury. He needs you on this.”

“He needs me in a cage?” Banner taunted.

“No one’s going to put you in a—”

“Stop lying to me!” he shouted – and the voice rang against the inside of the shack.

In one smooth motion she drew a sidearm from beneath the table, where CJ had secured the holster. She had no idea what good it would do against the Hulk, but it hadn’t been a conscious choice to pull the gun – it had been pure instinct.

To her surprise, Banner was smiling. He lifted his hands. “I’m sorry. That was mean. I just wanted to see what you’d do.” His voice was softer now – somehow more human. More… real. “Why don’t we do this the easy way, where you don’t use that,” he nodded towards her pistol, “and the other guy doesn’t make a mess? Okay? Natasha…”

Trembling, she lowered her pistol, and tilted her head. “Stand down,” she said into her earpiece. “We’re good here.” The SHIELD team that had met them – and CJ – acknowledged her command, fading back into prone positions.

“Just you and me, hmm?” Banner asked, his eyes dancing.

She waited a beat before speaking into her comm. “Quentin, clear out. Consider your team off-duty. We’ll take it from here.”

“Ma’am, is that really—”

“I have had a very long day, Agent Quentin,” Natasha growled. “Do not make me contact Agent Coulson or Director Fury to confirm that order. You will not like the result.”

Banner tipped his head to one side, watching her. Without fear of her gun, he sat down on one of the rickety chairs at the table. 

Natasha didn’t speak again until she gotten the all-clear on her comm from CJ that the SHIELD team had cleared out. “Faireoir, you and bleachtaire head to the jet. Start the preflights,” she ordered – but her tone was softer now. Once CJ had agreed, she shifted her attention back to Banner. “If it makes any difference, I asked to do this mission with only two support agents.” She sat down across from him.

“Gun pulling aside… you aren’t afraid of me, are you?” Banner asked curiously. 

“No.” It came out more honest – and more tired – than she’d intended. “I saw you at Culver last year.”

An eyebrow lifted again. “Shouldn’t that make you more afraid, not less?”

A reluctant smile crossed her face. “Maybe if I was normal.” And if she hadn’t been so exhausted, body and mind, she probably wouldn’t be speaking to him about it at all. “But I saw how Hulk tried to avoid civilians – hell, he tried to avoid hurting the soldiers, too. And…” her eyes met his. “Somebody I trust with my life – with more than my life – trusts you and Hulk both. That’s good enough for me.”

Banner’s lips twisted. “If you have that much faith in Fury…”

Natasha shook her head. “Not Fury.” But she didn’t elaborate.

~ * ~

“Nat?” CJ waited until they were in flight, until their passenger had stopped pacing and appeared to be asleep – or was feigning sleep to avoid Angie’s incessant peppering of questions.

Natasha looked across at her copilot. “To answer the question you aren’t asking,” she said as evenly as possible, “No. I’m not okay.”

“Well, yeah. I knew that. I’ve had to do four course corrections in the last hour, because you keep heading for DC instead of the helicarrier.”

Natasha winced. “I shouldn’t be flying.”

CJ appraised her briefly before leaning over and punching her shoulder lightly. “Not alone. But you aren’t alone, are you?”

He’d half expected her to retaliate for the punch, as weak as it was… but instead she slumped forward in her seat and put her head on the console. “I feel alone,” she said in a very soft voice. “In my head. I can’t… there’s this void where Clint is supposed to be. I know he’s alive, but I can’t… can’t reach him.” She tilted her head so that she could look at him. “First time in almost two years that he hasn’t been right there in my head, waiting for me.”

“We’ll get him back,” CJ whispered. “I don’t know how, but I know we will.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Sure I can.” He flicked the console to auto-pilot and scooted over until he could put a hand on her back. “There isn’t a force on this planet or off it that I honestly believe can keep the three of you apart long, matrarc. And between Goddess voodoo and whatever Stark and Banner can cook up – we’ll make it right. You have my word.”

Natasha didn’t have a good response for that. She just leaned into his touch and probed the blank space in her mind.

~ * ~

Steve was in the gym that Misty’d arranged for him – something purposely chosen for its complete lack of military feel. She’d made sure it was stocked with supplies and cautioned him to wrap his knuckles to avoid hurting himself – and then she’d patted his shoulder and told him that if it helped him to physically fight his demons, to have at it. That had been his fifth day awake, and he’d used it for at least an hour for every one of the days that followed. 

He’d been told today was the two week mark from when they hauled him out of the ice – it was his twelfth day awake in this century. He couldn’t help but continue to count them, like he was counting down somehow… though to what, he didn’t know.

The flashbacks were hitting him hard tonight. Misty’d said to expect them. So had the Psych agent that he’d been forced to speak with, but it was Misty’s word he trusted. She’d said to ride them out, as long as they didn’t make him feel like hurting himself. (She also told him that she considered punching his knuckles raw as hurting himself, hence the wrappings.) She’d insisted that he could call her at any time, day or night, if he needed to talk. He’d objected, of course. Steve had no desire to cause problems for her with her partner – they needed time together, time without an interfering, needy soldier.

She’d laughed at him, and told him that he wasn’t the only person with carte blanche to call her as needed – and that her partner had a similar list. “My people – we get it,” she’d told him seriously. “Get that sometimes you need somebody outside your head, to talk to or to cuddle. I do sometimes too, although the list of people I call is pretty short.” And he hadn’t pressed for details, because he’d seen something in her eyes that discouraged questions.

Something sad, and wounded.

Between the flashbacks and the memory of that look in Misty’s eyes, it didn’t surprise Steve to knock the bag clear off its hook. 

He breathed hard for a few moments, trying to decide if he was done for the night. He closed his eyes and was immediately assaulted with a different image – one of Bucky, falling from a train.

No sleep yet, then. He grabbed the next bag from the dozen or so waiting – Misty was very thorough in her preparations – and hung it up. He’d only gotten a few hits in when he realized he was no longer alone.

“Trouble sleeping?” Fury said.

Steve bit back a sigh. “I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I’ve had my fill.” He didn’t mention the flashbacks – or the nightmares. For all that Misty assured him they were normal, he couldn’t help but feel they were something you didn’t share with your commanding officer.

Fury drew closer, his eyes sweeping over Steve’s form. The appraisal felt oddly intrusive. “Then you should be out, celebrating. Seeing the world.”

Uncomfortable under the Director’s gaze, Steve walked over to one of the benches and started to unwrap his knuckles. He sat down, looking up at Fury. “When I went under, the world was at war.” His tone was quiet. “I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost.” Although Misty was doing her best to show him – both the wins and the losses.

“We’ve made some mistakes along the way,” Fury admitted. “Some very recently.”

“You here with a mission, sir?”

“I am.”

Steve leaned back and crossed his arms. “Trying to get me back in the world?”

Fury held out a file folder. “Trying to save it.”

Taking the file, Steve began to leaf through it. Some of it was familiar from personal experience – some he recognized from Misty’s lessons. What jumped out at him the most, though, was a photo of a blue cube. “Hydra’s secret weapon.”

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you,” Fury said, gesturing at the photo. Steve had to fight to keep his expression neutral. “He thought what we think – the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That’s something the world sorely needs.”

And of course, Steve thought wryly to himself, it had nothing to do with the potential for catastrophic weaponry. Not at all. Still, if it was in the hands of a hostile… “Who took it from you?”

“He’s called Loki. He’s… not from around here,” Fury drawled. Steve looked up at him sharply. “There’s a lot we’ll have to bring you up to speed on if you’re in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.”

Steve let out a low breath. “At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.” 

“Ten bucks says you’re wrong.” Steve huffed out a laugh at Fury’s challenge. That more than anything proved to Steve that Fury – while he was a bureaucrat now – had been a soldier. Steve had never met a soldier who didn’t bet on damned near anything. “There’s a debriefing packet waiting for you back at your apartment.”

Calling his SHIELD quarters an apartment was a stretch, but Steve chose not to make an issue of it. He hefted a punching bag up onto his shoulder and started to head for the door. He’d read and train – having the bag there gave him an outlet.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?” Fury called after him.

“You should have left it in the ocean.”

~ * ~

Steve hauled the punching bag back to his SHIELD quarters and hung it up while arguing to himself. The mission brief in his hands was classified, but the way Fury had approached him with it was setting off alarm bells. 

Duty said to pack his bag and take the next transport.

His gut said to call Misty.

Steve had his shiny new cell phone in his hand before he realized the gut won. He used the speed dial she’d showed him and held it to his ear. 

“Summers.”

“Misty, it’s Steve.”

There was a long, shuddering breath. “Okay. What can I do for you, Steve?”

His concern about the mission flew out of his brain at the sound of distress. “Nevermind that. What’s wrong, doll?”

“Just – just a lot going on.”

“Doll…”

“I can’t talk about it, Steve.”

His eyebrows drew together, but he recognized the tone as one he wasn’t going to prevail against. “Fury just gave me a mission. I’m to rendezvous on a ship to help locate some… foreigner… who’s stolen something and – ”

“If Fury wants you on the helicarrier to help retrieve the Tesseract, it’s a legit mission,” Misty interrupted. 

Concern blossomed into outright worry. “Misty – I didn’t tell you the mission, which means you know what’s going on. Are you okay? Are you safe?”

There was another deep breath, this one less ragged. “I’m safe. I’m in my apartment, actually, although I have to head in shortly. The place where the Tesseract was, where it was stolen from – where the agents were taken… my partner was there. Not injured,” she added hastily, “at least not seriously, but I’m freaked out. I’ll be okay. My partner will be okay.”

Steve thought it sounded a hell of a lot like Misty was trying to convince herself of that fact, too. “Do you need me to come get you?”

Misty swallowed hard, and was glad Steve didn’t know how to use the videochat – because if he’d seen the tears streaming down her face, she’d never convince him that she was okay. “No.” But Goddess, it warmed her that he’d offer. “Get packed and get to the shuttle. And Steve?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Be careful, please.”

His voice warmed and she could almost hear him smile. “I will be if you are.”

“Deal.”

~ * ~

One of the very last things Phil wanted to be doing right now was tracking down Tony Stark – but it had to be done… and he was probably the only SHIELD agent who had half a chance of getting the eccentric billionaire to help.

Assuming, of course, that Phil didn’t snap and taser him.

He dialed the number he had on file first, unsurprised when he couldn’t get through. He did at least reach Stark’s AI. “JARVIS, I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“You have not disturbed me, Agent Coulson.”

After their rather inauspicious meeting during Tony’s palladium poisoning, Phil had taken the time to… well, did one really ‘get to know’ an artificial intelligence? He’d made time to have a few conversations with JARVIS, at least – primarily at Pepper’s suggestion. The AI was the first line of defense for Stark. He – because Phil refused to think of JARVIS as an it – Pepper, and Colonel Rhodes were the three pillars upon which Stark balanced. Phil was nominally Stark’s SHIELD handler – it behooved him to have solid working relationships with anyone or anything that could help him manage the irascible inventor.

“Without violating your protocol, can you tell me if Stark is busy?”

There was a pause on the other end. “Sir has indicated he does not wish to be disturbed. He and Miss Potts have plans.”

“Do you have any flexibility on disturbing him? I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t urgent,” Phil continued. He was close to the Tower, now – close enough to see Stark’s name lit up on the side. “Something has come up, something we need Iron Man for – and beyond that, we’re going to need Stark’s brain. It’s… it’s big, JARVIS.”

Another pause, this one longer. “If someone were to utilize the software vulnerability that I just sent to your tablet, I would not be able to prevent them from reaching Sir… by telephone, or through his secure elevator.”

Phil blew out a breath. “Thank you, JARVIS. I won’t mention it.” He ended the call with the AI and sent the information to Lance before dialing the number he had for Stark again. It took a few minutes – during which time he entered the Tower and boarded the elevator JARVIS named – before he reached the man himself. “Stark, we need to talk,” he said as soon as it connected – video chat, this time. He reminded himself to find out what sort of treats JARVIS would appreciate.

“You have reached the life-model decoy of Tony Stark,” Stark deadpanned. “Please leave a message.”

Phil fought to keep his amusement off his face. Time around Stark usually left him equally amused and irritated. “This is urgent.”

“Then leave it urgently.” 

The elevator doors slid open, and Phil stepped into the penthouse.

“Security breach!” Stark protested. He pointed to Pepper. “That’s on you.”

“Mister Stark,” Phil said in greeting, inclining his head as he stowed his now superfluous cell phone in his jacket pocket.

Pepper smiled. “Phil! Come in.”

“Phil?” Stark repeated, scandalized. “His first name is Agent.” Phil had to stifle a smile.

Pepper gestured him forward. “Come on in, we’re celebrating.”

“Which is why he can’t stay,” Stark hissed.

Phil produced a tablet, holding it out towards Stark. “We need you to look this over, as soon as possible.”

“I don’t like being handed things,” Stark reminded him. Phil wanted to smack something – Stark, himself, the tablet – whatever. He was usually more respectful of triggers, but his composure was shot all to hell.

Pepper – Goddess bless Pepper – rescued him. “That’s alright, because I love to be handed things. So let’s trade.” She passed Phil her champagne glass, took the tablet, and retrieved her glass. Then she offered Stark the tablet. “Thank you.” It never failed to surprise Phil to see it – that somehow, it transmuted from a dangerous object to something innocuous just from contact with Pepper… or maybe that was too poetic for what had happened and he really needed sleep, coffee, or sugar (or all of the above.)

Stark didn’t immediately look at the data on the tablet, and Phil braced himself. Apparently the witty repartee portion of the evening wasn’t done yet. “Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday.”

“This isn’t a consultation,” Phil objected. He tried to sound level – tried to hide his exhaustion and yes – desperation. 

Pepper tilted her head. “Is this about the Avengers? Which… I know nothing about.”

“The Avengers Inititave was scrapped, I thought,” Tony said absently as he began flicking through the tablet. “And I didn’t even qualify.”

“I didn’t know that either,” Pepper murmured.

“Yeah, apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others.”

Pepper’s lips curved. “That I did know.”

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Phil said. He met Pepper’s eyes, hoping she could see – something. See his sincerity, if not his despair.

“Whatever,” Tony mumbled. “Miss Potts, got a minute?” He crooked his finger at her.

“Half a mo,” Pepper assured Phil before stepping away.

Phil watched as Stark uploaded the files to his own screens. The holograms surprised him, but their contents didn’t. Still, seeing the Tesseract – or video of it, at least – made him swallow hard. He was oblivious to the interplay between Stark and Pepper, his eyes locked on that damned cube. Aside from being mesmerized by the object that had cost him – temporarily, Goddess let it be temporary – his husband, Phil couldn’t watch the tenderness. It wasn’t his usual reticence against public displays of affection – or even his usual disdain for Stark’s antics. The simple touch between two people who loved each other made Phil ache for his absent spouses – thrum with an agony so intense that it robbed him of breath. 

“Any chance you’re swinging by LaGuardia?” Pepper asked Phil, pulling his attention away from the Tesseract – just as he saw Tony reach out to examine it.

“I can drop you,” Phil answered automatically. He forced his eyes away from the Tesseract to join Pepper in the elevator.

The instant the doors closed Pepper turned to Phil. “Tell me the truth.”

Phil swallowed hard and looked away. “The man who stole the Tesseract took hostages. One of them is our husband Clint.”

Pepper’s hand raised to comfort him, but she forced it down when she realized how tightly he was holding his posture. “Have you talked to Nat?”

“Briefly.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at Pepper’s expression. This wasn’t CEO Virginia Potts; this was his wife’s friend Pepper. That soft voice was one he’d heard her use over wine in the living room of their home, or over a video call when she needed to vent about her boyfriend’s ridiculous habits. “She’s on her way home. Back. She was on a mission out of the country.”

“What can I do?”

And that was also pure Pepper – as was the steel in her grip when she did finally put a hand on his forearm and squeeze. Phil’s throat worked soundlessly for a moment. “I don’t know.”

Pepper had been concerned. Phil’s quiet admission turned it from mere concern to alarm. “Alright.” She kept her hand on his arm, a gentle pressure meant to reassure. “If you come up with anything, you let me know. Any time, anything.”

“We appreciate that.” 

~ * ~

If recruiting Stark had been on his ‘necessary evils’ list, accompanying Captain Rogers to the helicarrier fell on the ‘unexpected pleasures’ list.

He’d managed to leave the man alone while he read his briefing packet – both the physical folder, and the information contained on the tablet. He was inordinately proud of Misty’s tutelage when he realized Rogers was using it with ease. Phil moved closer to Rogers, wanting to bring up Misty – but Rogers spoke first.

“So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?”

“A lot of people were,” Phil agreed. “You were the world’s first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine’s original formula.”

They both watched on the tablet screen as the Hulk bellowed and destroyed a Jeep. “Didn’t really go his way, did it?” Steve said drily.

Phil smiled a little – and recognized that Steve’s little aside had caused a shift in himself – he was looking at Steve Rogers now, not Captain America. “Not so much. When he’s not that thing, though, the guy’s like a Stephen Hawking.” At Steve’s utter lack of comprehensive, Phil felt like a heel. He guessed he couldn’t expect Misty to cover absolutely everything in the ten days or so she’d had Steve. “He’s like a smart person,” Phil continued lamely, then tried valiantly to regain his footing. “I’ve got to say, it’s an honor to meet you, officially.” Steve smiled at him, and Phil understood a little why Misty kept calling him a golden retriever. “I sort of met you,” Phil continued. “I mean, I watched you – while you were sleeping.” Goddess, could he get any more awkward? “I mean, I was – I was present, when you were unconscious… from the ice…” Yeah, it got more awkward. Clint was going to tease – Phil cut off that thought immediately. “You know, it’s really… it’s just… a huge honor to have you on board,” he finished lamely.

Steve gave him a small smile, rising to walk to the side of the jet where he could see out the viewscreen. “Well, I hope I’m the man for the job.”

“Oh, you are,” Phil said softly. “Absolutely.” But he could see that the idea made Steve uncomfortable. “We’ve made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input.” Mostly to add some of Stark’s bullet-resistant fabric, and to increase the range of motion in the shoulders. SHIELD’s quartermaster had apparently not done his research on exactly how vigorously Steve used his shield. 

“The uniform?” Steve blinked. “Aren’t the stars and stripes a little… old-fashioned?”

Phil’s gazed turned a little inwards. “With everything that’s happened… the things that are about to come to light… people might just need a little old-fashioned.”

“You’re Misty’s – Agent Summers’ – handler, aren’t you?” Steve asked Phil after an uncomfortable silence fell. “The one she calls Sensei?”

Phil couldn’t help the quick, fond smile on his face at mention of her. “Yes. She’s my grasshopper – my student, protege. I hope she’s been helpful to you.”

Steve’s eyes fixed on the older – at least, in this time – man’s face. “She has.” Misty trusted this man. He trusted Misty. Could he extend it to her handler? Was he only her handler, or were the bonds of affection dual sided? His careful perusal of the Agent extended from the shiny polish of his shoes to the gleam of a wedding ring – black, which surprised Steve. Shouldn’t it be gold? A memory flitted in his mind of his ma describing widows wearing a black wedding band – maybe he was a widower. He dismissed that as irrelevant and considered instead the expression Misty wore when she talked about him; warm. Trusting. Affectionate. Loving, perhaps, but not romantic… so this was unlikely to be the father of the unborn child she was hiding. Steve wondered if this man knew. “Thanks for assigning her to me.”

“My pleasure.” Phil slid his eyes sideways to look at Steve again. He looked older than the pictures Phil collected, older than his waking years should add up to. The weight of losing his sergeant, Phil suspected, and then waking up to find everything else gone, too. He tried to imagine himself in a world without Clint or Natasha in it, and the idea made him swallow hard. He’d have new age lines too. He was unaware that he was rubbing his wedding band with his thumb, seeking comfort in the pinch of metal. “How are you adjusting? Honestly?”

Steve’s eyes flooded with a pain that was so consuming it made Phil’s breath catch – but it was stifled ruthlessly. That made him ache even more for the Captain. Steve looked away. “Better with her than without her.” His smile was practiced and entirely fake. “Can I ask you something, sir?”

“Only if you don’t call me sir again,” Phil said with a small smile. “Agent Coulson is fine… even Phil. Or…” Phil paused and rapidly came to a decision, “Sensei, if you’re comfortable with it. Misty trusts you.”

“Phil, then.” Steve took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Was she… was she right, that men can… be together? Marry?”

“Yes.” And Phil couldn’t ignore the naked pain in the question. He stepped forward and put a hand on Steve’s forearm. “It isn’t accepted in all parts of society – there will always be pockets of insular people who object to anything that doesn’t look like themselves – but it is legal and becoming more common. I myself am in a non-traditional relationship, though I’m not prepared to give you the specifics.”

Steve nodded, his eyes peering out into the distance – into the past, Phil suspected. “Misty said most people don’t… know. About…”

Phil glanced at the pilot of the jet and lowered his voice. He knew that Steve’s hearing was exceptional, so he spoke just barely above sub-vocal. “About your sergeant?” Steve nodded. “It isn’t common knowledge. Do you want it to be?”

“No.” Steve’s hand touched his dog tags through his shirt. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.”

“Alright.” Phil patted his forearm again. “You don’t have to be. If you ever are, you have support.” At Steve’s surprised expression, Phil smiled again. “My grasshopper has decided you’re under her protection, which makes you one of mine. And anyone in SHIELD will tell you that I take care of mine.”

Steve was far more comforted by that than he thought he should be.

~ * ~


	5. Chapter 5

Lance was happy to take charge of Catriona – but the first thing he did was insist that she change out of her white robe and into a borrowed SHIELD uniform.

“You’re a bit conspicuous,” he pointed out. “And it’s difficult enough to explain your presence without adding your white robe – and the fact that blood never stains it.” Lance produced a folded uniform and pointed imperiously at the bathroom of the large room that had become their makeshift infirmary. “Change, please.”

She did – and felt utterly ridiculous. Lance had procured the smallest uniform he could find, and it was still laughably too large on the petite druid. Catriona rolled the sleeves up to her mid-forearm and attempted to do the same with the pants. Her sandals looked ridiculous with the uniform, so she resentfully slid on a pair of too-large boots as well. 

When she returned to Lance’s side, it was obvious he was hiding a smile. “Thank you,” he told her solemnly before leading her to the triage bay and setting to work.

Lance wasn’t a medic, but he was a fast learner and good at taking direction. He cleaned wounds and applied bandages, all the while keeping one eye on his pale clanmate.

Catriona did not use her Gift – she agreed with Phil’s concern that her power might be needed elsewhere. She did reach into the satchel she carried – tied around her waist now, since she could not fit it in the borrowed uniform’s sleeve – for herbal remedies from time to time, but stuck primarily to modern medicine.

The last critical patient was brought in by Maria and Chuck. Catriona turned care of the patient over to one of the other doctors – one she’d met briefly before, as Doctor Woodworth was typically stationed at Area 51 – before striding over to her clanmates. “You are wounded,” she accused Chuck, looking at the bruises blooming on his face.

“It’s not that bad,” Chuck tried to evade. 

Catriona’s lips narrowed. “Do not lie to me, cumainn.”

“Can we have that argument in private?” Lance suggested, glancing around. “If Chuck’s going to get dressed down—”

“I would prefer he simple be healed,” Catriona interrupted. “Come.” She gestured imperiously for them to follow before stepping into a small supply closet. It was a tight fight for four adults… even if one of them was a very small adult.

Chuck sighed and followed her. The sigh hurt. Hell, everything hurt. As soon as the door closed to the room, he sank onto a stack of banker boxes, wincing. “I should argue with you about healing me, but – I’m beat to hell, pixie.”

“I see that.” She moved to stand next to him, feathering a touch of her fingers down the side of his face. “Concussion. One broken rib and three cracked. Several pulled muscles – cumainn, you should not have been working rescue.”

Maria was staring at Chuck. “You hauled rock with broken ribs? Are you fucking insane? You told me you were fine!”

“I was more fine than the bastards we was diggin’ out,” Chuck said tiredly. “Look, I get that you’re pissed. I get that you’d have benched me if you knew how bad it was. That’s why I didn’t tell you, Ria. You needed me. My men – the agents needed us.”

Lance crouched down so that he could make eye contact more easily with Chuck. “Is this a Marine thing?”

“No, it fucking well isn’t!” Maria fumed.

Chuck held out a hand to stave off her protest. “It’s sort of a Marine thing. It’s a soldier-who-lost-men thing.”

Maria’s eyes flashed. “I’ve lost men too, but that doesn’t give me blanket permission to work myself to death!” 

“He is not dead, laoch scail,” Catriona reminded her quietly. She placed two fingers to Chuck’s temple and let her Gift seep into him. “It was unwise of him, perhaps – but you cannot refute that you have made similarly reckless choices in the past.”

“I didn’t have a reason not to!” Maria snapped. “I do now, and so do you, Chuckles.” He flinched when she stabbed a finger at him. “Do not put me in the position of having to explain to bunny why you aren’t coming home… and by the Goddess, do not make me tell the cricket that Uncle Chuck isn’t going to be around.”

The black man blinked at her. “Uncle Chuck?”

Maria waited for Catriona to pull away, her healing done – and then she put her hands on Chuck’s shoulders and forced him to look her in the eye. “Yes, Uncle Chuck. Even if it’s a challenge for me to admit it… you’re our brother. Misty depends on you. Hell, I depend on you.” She lifted a hand from one shoulder and smacked the back of his head lightly. “That means not taking stupid risks, because we need you to come home. I might not have benched you for the ribs – you’re right. We needed you. But I would have at least wrapped them and assigned you to something a little less physically demanding.”

“Yeah,” Chuck choked out. “Yeah, okay.” He shifted to lean forward, pressing his head against Maria’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Lance moved closer, leaning against Chuck’s side and resting his hand between the burly man’s shoulder blades. “What now?” he asked Maria. He wanted to say something more personal, to address Chuck’s emotional state… but he could guess that the squad second was at his limit for such discussions.

“Now, we find the next flight to the helicarrier,” Maria said after a moment. She didn’t pull away from Chuck, just let him rest against her. Catriona sidled closer and wormed her way under Lance’s free arm. “I’ve been getting updates from Phil – Nat’s going to pick up Banner in India, and he’s going to recruit Stark before heading to the carrier. Rogers too, I expect. Phil would like us all up there.”

“Is it wise for me to join you?” Catriona asked softly. “And laoch beag?”

“Good fucking luck keeping Misty off the helicarrier,” Maria said flatly. “If that’s where all of the rest of her clan is, that’s where she’ll insist on being. Which means yes, I want you with us – need you close,” she added, shifting one hand off Chuck to rest on the druid’s arm. “I’m going to be busy being deputy director, for the most part. You can focus on keeping our clan safe and sane, yeah?”

Catriona nodded, her curls bouncing. “It shall be as you wish, laoch scail.”

Maria was still smiling when she pulled out her phone to make arrangements.

Getting on to the helicarrier wasn’t a problem. Bringing Catriona with them might have been, if Maria hadn’t been prepared to fully utilize her scariest Senior-Agent-Deputy-Director-Don’t-Fuck-With-Me face. It was, Lance thought, nearly as effective as Phil’s Agent-Coulson-Is-In-Charge expression.

The ship was still on the water when they boarded. Lance guessed it was to make embarking easier – as of yet, the jet carrying Doctor Banner hadn’t arrived, nor had the one bearing Captain Rogers. A not insignificant part of Lance was anticipating meeting both the scientist and the soldier, though he didn’t allow it to distract him from his duties.

Chuck found himself in the Engineering bays, running diagnostics on some of the equipment that was likely to be needed in the search for the damned cube. Lance was on the bridge – not that he was doing much interesting, but at least he was a part of the action. Catriona had presented herself as an orderly in the medical bay, and the single harried doctor had accepted her help without question as he readied supplies… he seemed to think it necessary to prepare for a violent confrontation, and Catriona didn’t disagree. Raj was in the science department, attempting to assist in parsing through the information rescued from the destroyed facility. Sam and Al had been tapped by the Director to begin stowing some of the prototypes and equipment also saved from the Mojave facility.

Maria knew she should head straight for the bridge, but she took a few moments for herself first by slipping into her tiny shipboard quarters and messaging Misty to join her.

“Ducks,” Misty breathed when she’d closed and locked the door behind her, reaching for Maria. She knew they didn’t have long – not with the Director stalking around in a foul mood – but she needed this. Needed Maria.

“Bunny.” Maria drew her close, pressing Misty’s head into her shoulder and letting out a breath that she felt like she’d been holding since she’d gotten the call to accompany Fury to New Mexico. They hadn’t been apart long – not even twelve hours – but it felt too long. Misty leaned into Maria’s touch and when that wasn’t enough, tightened her arms around Maria’s waist until they were pressed together from knees to shoulders. “Bunny…” she repeated, but this time there was wonder in her tone. Maria wormed a hand between them and pressed it to Misty’s belly… where the formerly flat abdomen was now rounded and firm. “I didn’t realize…”

Misty smiled against Maria’s shoulder. She’d crossed the end of the first trimester just before taking over Steve’s cultural studies – she was officially at week fourteen now and had been wondering when she’d start to show enough for Maria to remark upon it. She was utterly charmed by Maria’s reaction… enough to be fighting emotional tears. Damned hormones. “I’m usually wearing more layers, but it’s warm on the ship. Should I… is it obvious? Should I cover up more?”

“No, it’s not obvious,” Maria murmured. Unable to resist – and seeing absolutely no reason to try – she dropped to her knees and lifted the hem of Misty’s uniform shirt so that she could press her lips to Misty’s belly. “Hello, cricket.”

Tangling her fingers in Maria’s hair, Misty smiled down at her partner. “You were gone half a day, it’s not like I got that much bigger while you were gone.”

“Maybe it’s just because I was thinking of her. Him. Cricket.” Maria turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek against the warm skin. “I should get to work.”

“Not yet,” Misty whispered. “Just… soak it up a few more minutes, ducks. My gut says this might be the last quiet we get for awhile.”

Maria complied – keeping her ear pressed up against their baby for a long moment before rising and gathering Misty against her. “I love you,” she murmured. “You and the cricket both.”

“I – we – love you too.” Misty nestled in, settling easily into a position they took so often – even before admitting their feelings. Her head was pressed into Maria’s shoulder, her lips up against the pale skin. Maria’s hands ran up and down her back.

The moment was broken by Maria’s cell phone, and she answered it reluctantly. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way,” she told the Director. She made sure the call was disconnected before kissing Misty deeply. “I’m for the bridge.”

“I’ll follow you,” Misty sighed. “I’m on bridge duty too.”

Maria tensed. “Would you – I mean – I would appreciate if – ”

Sighing again, more deeply this time, Misty sat down on the edge of Maria’s bunk. “Where can I work that will make you less worried?”

On dry land, Maria wanted to say – but she was smarter than that. “Tactical, maybe?”

“At a desk,” Misty said flatly. She raised a hand to prevent Maria’s response and breathed deeply. “Okay. You get me reassigned, and I’ll report to Tactical. And only,” she added, “because I know you – and you won’t be at peak efficiency if I’m on the bridge.”

“I’m sorry,” Maria whispered. “I know that’s on me, I just – ”

It wasn’t alright, and it wasn’t okay – but there was too much going on for Misty to make an issue of it right now. “It’s a pretty minor concession, in the grand scheme,” she said instead. “But you owe me for this, ducks.”

“When we get to the other side of this shit – whenever that winds up being,” Maria promised, “I’ll do the penance of your choice for being an overprotective and controlling girlfriend.”

~ * ~

Steve followed Phil down the gangplank out of the Quinjet, gazing approvingly at the military neatness of the aircraft carrier – no, he’d called it a helicarrier, hadn’t he? Still, it was a sharp looking operation and Steve appreciated that.

Natasha met them at the base of the ramp, meeting Phil’s eyes but not speaking. She shifted her gaze to the taller man beside her husband.

“Agent Romanoff,” Phil gestured to Natasha. “Captain Rogers.”

Steve nodded respectfully. “Ma’am.”

Her lips curled in a smile, though there was little amusement behind it. “Hi.” Her eyes moved back to her husband. “They need you on the bridge,” Natasha said to Phil – unable to reach for him like she desperately needed to, unable to be his wife right now. No one had summoned him to the bridge… but if he stayed out on the flight deck, she wouldn’t be able to control herself. She needed Rogers to see Agent Romanoff, not the desperate, panicking wife that was lurking just beneath the surface.

Phil understood everything she didn’t say. He wanted to touch her, to reassure – but he was as aware of her fragility as he was of his own. Instead, he nodded once and disappeared into the bowels of the helicarrier. “See you there.”

Natasha allowed herself one deep, centering breath before she turned back to Steve. Unconsciously she began twisting her wedding ring on her finger with her thumb. “There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice,” she said, gesturing for Steve to follow her. “I thought Coulson was gonna swoon.” All true, but calling Phil by his surname hurt. “Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?”

“Trading cards?” Steve repeated. 

“They’re vintage,” Natasha said, her smiling turning more genuine. “He’s very proud.” So was she – she’d found the last ones for him, after all. 

A mild disturbance drew Natasha’s attention away from Steve, and she caught sight of Banner awkwardly avoiding the SHIELD agents working on the deck. Steve saw him at the same moment.

“Doctor Banner,” Steve greeted, approaching the scientist with an extended hand.

Banner took it almost hesitantly. “Oh, hi.” He smiled a little at Natasha before returning his attention to Steve. “They told me you’d be coming.”

“Word is you can find the cube,” Steve said with a small smile. He couldn’t explain it – but he liked the shy scientist on sight. Something about the rumpled, diffident manner appealed. 

“Is that the only word on me?” Banner asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve’s smile grew. “Only one I care about.”

The corners of Banner’s lips lifted – not enough to be a smile, but it brightened his face. “Must be strange for you, all of this,” Banner suggested, waving a hand at the surface of the carrier.

He looked out on the drilling agents, the military precision… the called cadence. “Well, this is actually kind of familiar.” 

“Gentleman,” Natasha interrupted, “you may want to step inside in a minute. It’s going to get a little hard to breath.” The helicarrier began to whir as engines started up – tilted away from the base and began to spin.

“Is this a submarine?” Steve asked in surprise.

Banner huffed out a laugh. “Really? They want me in a submerged pressurized metal container?” Natasha smirked as the whirring, wheeling blades spun faster – and the ship began to lift into the air. “Oh, no,” Banner snarked. “This is much worse.”

She couldn’t help herself – Natasha chuckled at him as she gestured for Banner and Steve to join her. “Relax, Doctor. I wouldn’t have brought you on board if I thought it was going to be a problem.”

He raised an eyebrow at her – that same damned eyebrow, Natasha noted with amusement. “And it was entirely up to you?”

“Well… no,” she admitted. “But I’d have said something to you.”

Steve looked between the two of them. “Do you two… know each other?”

“Met today,” Banner said with a shrug as he followed Natasha through a warren of passageways. She’d pulled ahead just enough that he thought she couldn’t hear him. “Officially, at least. She apparently knew of me before… or at least, of the other guy.” He shifted his eyes away, not wanting to discuss the Hulk. “She’s an interesting woman.”

They entered the bridge as the ship was reaching cruising altitude, and Fury was commanding it to ‘vanish’. Steve leaned over to watch on one of the monitors as reflecting mirrors rendered the massive ship nearly invisible. Smiling to himself, he took in the entirety of the bridge – from the massive windows to the conference table in the rear. Damn, he thought to himself… Buck would’ve loved this.

Fury strode to his station, turning and nodding at Banner and Steve. “Gentlemen.”

Still smiling, thinking of Bucky’s reaction to this, Steve pulled out his wallet and extracted a ten dollar bill, handing it to Fury. A bet was a bet, after all… and he’d sure as hell been surprised by the helicarrier.

Smirking, Fury tucked the bill into a pocket and offered his hand to Banner. “Doctor, thank you for coming.”

“Thanks for asking nicely,” Banner said drily. His eyes flickered to Natasha, who was fighting a smile. “So… how long am I staying?”

“Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you’re in the clear,” Fury assured him. 

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, Banner thought – but there was an odd bluish glint in Fury’s eye. “Where are you with that?”

Fury shifted his attention to Phil, one eyebrow raised. “We’re sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet,” Phil explained. He was momentarily distracted by Natasha crouching down near a computer monitor that was displaying a picture of Clint. “Cellphones, laptops. If it’s connected to a satellite, it’s eyes and ears for us.”

Natasha’s eyes were fixed on Clint’s photo. “That’s still not gonna find them in time.” She had no idea what deadline they were fighting – just that they were. Perhaps if they hadn’t been in midair, she could have asked Gaia for clarification… but as it was, she was left merely with the certainty that they were indeed on a deadline… and thus far, were behind schedule.

“You have to narrow the field,” Banner instructed. He began to roll up the sleeves of his purple shirt. “How many spectrometers do you have access to?”

“How many are there?” Fury’s expression wasn’t exactly a smirk – but close enough for government work.

Banner neatly folded his sleeves into precise cuffs. “Call every lab you know. Tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays.” Speaking in his specialty now, there was no trace of the diffidence he’d displayed earlier. “I’ll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places.” He raised an eyebrow at Fury. “Do you have somewhere for me to work?”

“Agent Romanoff,” Fury commanded, “would you show Doctor Banner to his laboratory please?”

Natasha cocked an answering eyebrow at Banner, almost challenging. “You’re gonna love it, Doc,” she promised. “We’ve got all the toys.”

Banner waited until they were off the bridge and out of earshot before he spoke again. “You want to tell me who that photo was of?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not an idiot, Miss Romanoff.”

“Natasha, please,” she corrected him, worrying at her wedding ring again. “I’m not a Miss.” She opened the door to a glassed-off laboratory and gestured him in. She used the time to argue with herself… but ultimately, Gaia’s faith in the scientist won over her doubts. “My husband. One of my husbands. Clint Barton. He’s… Loki took him.”

Banner nodded thoughtfully, stepping up to a floating screen to begin his calculations – but he hadn’t shifted his attention away from her entirely. “Agent Coulson is the other husband?” Her eyes flashed to his. “Your wedding ring matches his.”

“You can… see them?” Natasha whispered.

“I take it that’s unusual?” She nodded. “I can see them.” He could also see the looks between them – carefully hidden, but present. “I can also guess that you guys aren’t… out? Is that the right term for… whatever you call your relationship?”

“It is, and we aren’t.” Natasha found a stool and sank onto it. “We aren’t ready to… we can’t…”

“Natasha,” Bruce said softly. “I’m not going to go spouting the news off to people. The way you looked at that photo… it was obvious to me that this is about more than just a stolen piece of tech to you, or a – what do you even call Loki, a god?”

“Demigod.” Natasha wanted to bury her head in her hands but didn’t dare – couldn’t fall apart here, no matter how inexplicably comforting she found Bruce’s presence. “It’s personal for me, and bigger than just… Clint’s special in more ways that just being my husband. We think Loki took him because of that.”

Bruce nodded again. “Is it something you can tell me? Will it help in the search?”

Natasha rubbed a hand down her face. “I have to check with some people before I tell you.” Catriona would be able to tell her, if this was information Bruce should have – whether he was safe to tell about Gaia. Her gut said yes… but this far from Gaia and as unstable as she was feeling, she needed the support of her High Priestess. “That’s not about trusting you, that’s…”

“You do trust me, don’t you?” Bruce murmured in wonder. “That’s… I don’t know why that’s true – and I can’t explain why I feel the same way.” He paused in his calculations to meet her eyes full-on. “I’ll do whatever I can to find your husband, Natasha. I can’t promise it will be enough – but I can promise to do my best.”

She rose from the stool and – before she could overthink it – hugged him. Briefly, but tight. “Thank you,” she whispered. Pulling away, she took a deep breath. “I’d like to offer you one of my fledgli—one of our junior agents. You met her in the Quinjet. Angie… Agent Edwards is as innovative as Stark, but a lot less irritating to be around. If she’d be of any help to you…”

“I’m not used to working with someone,” Bruce demurred… but… he’d liked the talkative young agent. “I’ll try. If nothing else, she can make tea.”

“She’s good at that,” Natasha promised. “And we’ve got some blends you won’t have tried.” She pulled out her phone and tapped out a message. “She’ll be here in ten… and if you need anything, let her know. If it’s in my power, I’ll see that you have it.”

“Thank you.” Bruce smiled with genuine warmth at her before returning to his calculations.

~ * ~

Once Banner was occupied with Natasha and his own lab, Phil returned to his own duties – which, at present, apparently involved being ushered into his shipboard quarters by CJ. “This isn’t exactly going to halt the spread of rumors,” Phil said mildly as the sharpshooter bodily pushed him into his quarters.

“I don’t care.” CJ’s voice wasn’t the calm and careful tone he expected, and he forced himself to look more closely at his youngest fledgling. “I just – I need you to be my chief right now, and not Agent Coulson.”

Phil carefully put a hand on the back of CJ’s neck and drew him into a hug. “What do you need, faireoir?”

CJ was rigid in his arms at first and Phil nearly released him – afraid he’d misread the cues, and that CJ couldn’t handle the physical contact. All at once the tension released and CJ slumped against him, resting his head against Phil’s shoulder. “I need Clint to be okay,” he whispered. “I know you do too. I need that fucking cube to disappear and for the arrogant asshole alien to fuck off and I want to go home to the dojo and listen to Natasha read Harry Potter while we drink cocoa and eat your brownies and – and – ”

“I know.” Phil shifted to press a kiss to CJ’s temple, rubbing circles on the young man’s neck. “Goddess, I know. I need all of that too.”

“And I really need you to be okay,” CJ continued, “because I am not and I’m faking it okay most of the time but it rears up and grabs me by the balls and you know I don’t like to think about anything grabbing my balls but fuck I’m so scared, Chief, and I don’t know what to do except put on a brave face and soldier on and I’m fucking failing at it because you and Nat need me to be strong and I can’t, I’m failing you, I can’t do it, Chief – ”

Phil tightened his arm around CJ. “You don’t have to be strong for me, faireoir. It’s alright. Just relax.” He murmured meaningless platitudes to the boy, rocking him like he would Lily or Rose. Eventually CJ settled and his breathing evened out. “There you are. Better now, having let it out?” CJ nodded against him. “You’ve never failed me, CJ. You never will. You have my word.”

“Yes, chief.” CJ breathed in the comforting smell a moment longer before pulling away. “Okay. I’m… I’m going back to work. I’m down in Tactical with Misty.”

“Alright.” Phil allowed himself one more moment – just one – to run his hand through CJ’s hair. “Take care of each other for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” CJ smiled and they parted ways in the hallway – Phil for the bridge, and CJ for Tactical. Phil’s gait was easier, CJ noticed. Good. Then the long babbling ranting cuddle had been worth it. Phil wouldn’t break down – not yet. CJ knew that. But he drew strength from taking care of his people, and he seemed to get a lot of taking care of CJ in particular. So… CJ would need him, however often it took, to keep his Chief balanced. 

It was only fair, after all… Phil took care of the rest of them. Someone had to take care of him.

~ * ~

“Misty?” Steve blurted out, when he caught sight of the familiar blonde profile in the corridor. “What are you doing here?”

Misty shot him a look – one he didn’t need any modern translation for. She was pissed at him for saying anything, but in her condition… “My job, Captain Rogers,” she said stiffly.

He grabbed her elbow as she made to move past him – gently, because he didn’t want to hurt her, but he definitely needed to talk to her. “Misty, come on. You know what I mean.” And he let his eyes flick down, ever so briefly, to her midsection.

She paled, and for a moment he worried she was going to pass out. “Who told you?” she hissed.

“No one. I guessed.” He raised an eyebrow. “Am I wrong? Or are you—”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupted sharply. “Just… don’t.” Misty closed her eyes briefly. “You aren’t wrong, but not very many people know. The Director doesn’t.”

Steve blinked. “That ain’t gonna fly for much longer, doll.” Brooklyn laced his tone more in that statement than any other she’d heard him say – and she wondered why now.

“I know.” For just a moment, she let herself sag against him – let him surreptitiously support her, and didn’t pull away when he trailed his fingers through her ponytail. “I just – I can’t.”

“You shouldn’t be up here.” Steve tilted his head, indicating the whole of the helicarrier.

“My family is here, Steve.” If he’d been an unenhanced man, he’d have had to strain to hear her. “Most of the people I care for in this world are on this ship – including my partner. And one of the missing agents? He’s family too. I can’t sit at home like – I can’t.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading for him to understand. 

He did. More than he wanted to – hadn’t he risked everything to follow Bucky into battle? He dropped his hand from her elbow and nodded. “Alright. If this is what you need to do – but promise me you’ll be careful.” She started to protest, and he shook his head. “Misty, you’re the only friend I’ve got,” he added, his voice very soft. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“I’ll be careful,” she promised, touching his forearm briefly. “And when this is over and we stand down, I’m going to introduce you to some people – because nobody should ever have only one friend.”

~ * ~


	6. Chapter 6

“When Fury implied he could get me access to every spectrometer, I didn’t actually believe him,” Bruce remarked to Angie.

The young woman grinned. “Never underestimate the eyepatch.”

They’d been working together several hours – long enough for them both to relax. Bruce kept waiting for Angie to flinch away from him, but she seemed entirely content to follow his instructions and input data. “Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked as he scanned the results from several labs in the Middle East.

“You can ask,” Angie answered easily. “Might not answer, but you can always ask.”

Bruce was silent a moment longer. “What are you, to Natasha? Agent Romanoff? She started to call you something else, something like… fletcher or…”

“Fledgling.” A fond smile spread across her face. “Yeah, that’s – she calls all of us that. My squad, I mean. It’s like… affectionate.”

“Is she the only one who calls you that?”

Before she answered, Angie pulled out her cell phone and shot a quick message to Natasha, who confirmed that Bruce knew about the triad. Relieved, Angie grinned a little and continued. “No. Her husbands do too,” Angie answered. “They’re like… well, not really parents but… I mean, I guess Phil and Clint are old enough to be our dads, or at least mine… you probably are too.”

Bruce snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? How old are you?”

“Twenty two. I’m, like, second youngest,” Angie explained. She moved to the rear of the lab to turn on the electric kettle. They weren’t standard issue in a lab… she suspected that either Phil or Natasha had arranged for it. “Our squad’s mixed ages. If you’re like, Sensei’s age – Phil’s age – then you’re old enough to dad like… five of us.”

“I’d guess Agent Coulson and I are within five years or so,” Bruce estimated. “But I’m not exactly father material.” A shadow crossed his face – he’d wanted children, once upon a time. Before the accident… but even then, the idea had scared him. 

“We can always use an uncle.” Angie poured hot water over a sachet of the clan blend tea that Catriona made. “I mean. If you decide to stick around. If you’re not gonna just… split… when we get Clint back… and that damned cube.”

Bruce glanced over at her as he collated data. “Is it really a good idea to speak for the rest of your squad? What makes you think they’d want me – and the big guy – around?”

“Well, you’re hella smart.” Angie brought the steaming cup over to him, smiling a little. “You get my science jokes which, let me tell you, is rare among us. I mean, Lancelot gets them but – well, okay, Phil gets some of the nerdy ones. Anyway.” She stepped back over to her workstation. “You’ve got a saving-people-thing like Sensei, or you wouldn’t have been in India doing pro bono medical work. And… well, Nat trusts you. And that’s good enough for me.”

He picked up the mug and sipped to give himself time to think – and was pleasantly surprised at the taste. Natasha had said they’d have tea he hadn’t tried… but he hadn’t actually expected that to be true. He was a bit of an aficionado and had tried tea around the world. This was an unexpected pleasure. “You’re very unusual individuals.”

Angie passed him a tablet with an updated data table. “You got no idea, Doc.”

~ * ~

“It’s a damned good thing Rogers was never intended to be a spy,” CJ hissed to Natasha in the corridor, “because I’ve seen packs of ravaging feral dogs that are more subtle than he is.”

Natasha bit back a sigh and gestured for CJ to enter one of the small rooms just off the corridor. The helicarrier, like an aircraft carrier, was a warren of narrow corridors and tiny rooms. “What has he done that’s got you in a tither, faireoir?”

“I’m not in a tither. I don’t even know what a tither is.” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and waited. “He won’t stop watching her, matrarc. Just – he’s hovering. Making the other agents nervous, too.”

“She’s his friend,” Natasha pointed out. “And he’s at loose ends until we get a lead on Loki or the cube. I’m sure he’s just lonely.”

CJ bit back a growl, but the fierce protectiveness shown in his eyes. “This isn’t just boredom, Nat. He isn’t just looking at her, he’s… he’s watching. Like I do. Like – like Clint does.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Like he’s evaluating her? Sizing her up? Or… what?”

“I don’t know.” CJ’s shoulders slumped forward. “But he’s driving me batty. I don’t think Misty’s noticed it… she’s been neck deep in some research she got from that other druid, the bard guy. But… Nat…”

“I’ll talk to him,” Natasha promised. She brushed her hand over CJ’s. “I’m sure it’s harmless, CJ. Rogers isn’t a bad guy.”

“Maybe not,” CJ mumbled, “but he’s freaking me out.”

Natasha patted him once more before leaving the room to track down Steve. It wasn’t difficult – he was loitering in a corridor outside one of the tactical rooms. Natasha got a glimpse of a blonde ponytail through the glass before she fixed her gaze on the soldier. “Captain?”

Steve straightened up. “Ma’am?”

“I’d like a word.” She didn’t give him the opportunity to argue – just stalked down the corridor until she located a small conference room and entered. 

He followed her reluctantly. He didn’t want to walk away from Misty – didn’t like leaving her there with people he didn’t know – couldn’t know if they’d take her safety as seriously as they should. It wasn’t just about protecting his friend now, not now that she’d confirmed her pregnancy. There was the baby to think of… and while he knew it wasn’t his right to stand beside Misty, he was kind of hoping he’d at least earned the privilege of standing between her and danger.

Natasha pointed at a chair and waited for him to sit before she lowered herself into a seat. “You’re scaring my agents.”

That was unexpected. Steve hadn’t interacted with any of the agents – just observed them. He wanted to watch how others treated Misty, see if he could identify her mysterious partner. Aside from natural curiosity… he worried. There were odd moments of pain and vulnerability in Misty’s eyes – he wanted to know that it wasn’t her partner that was causing those. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Natasha watched him think, wondering if he knew just how expressive his face was. “Call me Natasha, please. Or Romanoff, if you’ve got to be official.” 

It wasn’t so much the request as the delivery that hit Steve – because it was nearly identical to the way Misty had corrected him, when he’d first met her. Was Romanoff – Natasha – part of Misty’s squad, then? He’d thought Misty was the leader of that group… he couldn’t see Natasha reporting to her. Maybe Natasha was akin to Misty’s sensei… part of her chain of command, but not a part of the squad. “I’ll try… if you’ll call me Steve.”

“Alright.” Natasha leaned back in the chair, tapping one finger on the surface of the table. “I need you to stop hovering over Misty.”

Steve wanted to argue that he was doing his job, monitoring a developing tactical situation – but Natasha’s use of Misty’s first name made it personal. “I suppose there’s no point in pretending you’ve got it wrong.”

Her eyes glinted with approval. “Nope.” Natasha smiled a little. “The person who brought it to my attention – he doesn’t miss much.”

“Who – ” Steve began, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. He doubted Natasha would tell him… but he wondered if it was the mystery partner. Who else would be watching Misty closely enough to catch him watching her, too? He tried again. “Who do I need to apologize to?”

“That depends on why you’re hovering.” Natasha’s finger stilled in its tapping. “I’d think carefully about your answer, Captain Rogers. Steve.”

He did.

Steve wasn’t sure what Natasha was to Misty. Did not know if the redheaded bombshell knew about the pregnancy, or about the mystery partner. Couldn’t gauge her sincerity by body language, because she was a tricksy dame – her arms said one thing, her mouth another, and her eyes a third. Steve didn’t trust himself to interpret it. From the tips of her booted toes to the ends of her fingernails, Natasha Romanoff was an enigma – 

Wait. Was that… yes, she was wearing a wedding ring, wasn’t she? And it happened to match the black band Steve had seen on Phil’s hand… the one he’d assumed was the mark of a widower. Wasn’t Natasha’s call sign ‘The Black Widow’? That made altogether too much sense then – she must be married to Misty’s Sensei. Her interest in Misty’s well-being was more than casual friendship, then. Steve could see how absolute Misty’s trust was in Phil… and he knew enough now about her sense of loyalty to be sure it would extend to Phil’s wife.

“I need her to be safe,” Steve said finally. He met Natasha’s eyes, and decided on complete honesty. “She brought light and warmth into my life when all I could see was another sunrise without – another sunrise alone. Being her friend makes facing another day bearable. Caring for her gives me hope.”

Natasha’s expression softened. “Misty is very good at that. Even she’s the one needing care, she brings joy to others.” 

“I don’t know the other agents she’s working with,” Steve continued doggedly. “They might be fine agents, but I don’t know them. I can’t… I can’t trust that they’re the best option to keep them – her – safe.”

The tapping of Natasha’s finger resumed on the table. “Do you trust me?”

“Misty does.”

Her lips quirked. “And that’s enough for you?” He nodded. “Alright, look – I get that you haven’t personally vetted everyone… but they’ve been cleared.” Natasha’s finger drummed a staccato beat. “You are not the only person concerned with Misty’s health and safety. There are four senior SHIELD agents that have vetted everyone who’d get close to Misty, and seven junior ones. Every one of those individuals has Misty’s best interests at heart – and her trust. We will keep her safe, Steve. We will keep them both safe.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll back off.” He rose from the table. Natasha’s acknowledgement of the pregnancy made him bold. “Is she happy with her partner?”

“Deliriously, adorably, sickeningly happy.”

“Aces.”

~ * ~

Phil stood next to Steve on the bridge, admiring the formation of the clouds. After his conversation with Natasha, Steve had sought out Phil, hoping to find a task to occupy him. Phil had installed him there on the bridge and began to talk to him… explaining what he knew about Loki and Asgard, the history of the Tesseract since Steve had last seen it… anything that Phil thought might be pertinent to the mission – and that he suspected Fury would neglect to brief Steve on. He was supervising the bridge crew while he did so, freeing Maria up for duties elsewhere… but it was less of a duty and more of a pleasure, to teach Steve. The Captain proved to be a delightful student, absorbing information much like Maria did – easily and eagerly.

They’d fallen silent listening to the crew monitoring ship functions. After several long moments, Steve spoke. “Natasha – Agent Romanoff mentioned trading cards, when I first came on. I couldn’t tell if she was being serious, but… if you want me to sign them…”

Phil beamed. “She was serious. I’d love it if you’d sign them… I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Steve assured him. For one thing, he wanted to get a good look at them… for another, he found himself liking Misty’s handler, and wouldn’t mind doing him a favor. The man’s enthusiasm for Captain America was a little embarrassing… but it was also endearing.

“It’s a vintage set,” Phil boasted. “It took me a couple of years – ” more than a decade, really, “ – to collect them all. Near mint. Slight foxing around the edges, but – ” He was grateful for Sitwell’s interruption – he could feel the fanboy babble starting.

“We got a hit,” Sitwell announced to the bridge, looking at his monitor. “Sixty-seven percent match.” On the screen, a photo of Loki was overlaid with a biometric grid. “Wait – cross match. Seventy-nine percent.”

“Location?” Phil demanded. Would Clint be there? Goddess, he hoped so – needed it to be true, needed his husband to be there. 

So urgent was his need he almost missed Sitwell’s answer. “Stuttgart, Germany. Twenty-eight Konigstrasse.” The agent tipped his head towards Fury. “He’s not exactly hiding.”

Fury shifted his weight on his feet, that eager glint lighting up his eye again. “Captain.” Steve’s eyes met his. “You’re up.”

Steve nodded and left the bridge, heading for the armory. He wasn’t entirely surprised find Misty just inside the door of the room that held both his uniform and his shield.

“Steve,” Misty said, extending her hand. “I need you to promise me something.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Do you remember the photos I showed you, of the agents that were taken?” Misty asked. She tugged Steve’s hand to draw him closer.

Steve let himself be pulled. “I have an eidetic memory, doll. I remember everything.”

Misty drew Steve right up to her and then wrapped her arms around his waist. “One of them – the first one I showed you, the guy with the biceps? He’s – he’s really important, Steve. If you see him… we need him back alive.”

Was this the mystery partner? That agent – Barton, he thought – was a good ten years older than Misty. Maybe fifteen. Did an age gap like that explain the secrecy? But Misty had said her partner was on the ship, so… this man must be part of her squad. Or something akin to what Phil and Natasha were to her – a mentor. “If it’s at all possible, I’ll spare him for you. Bring him home,” Steve assured her. 

“No, Steve.” Misty rested her head against his chest. “You don’t understand. This isn’t just about wanting him back. Yes, he’s family and there’s not much I wouldn’t do for him, but… there’s more at play here. More that Fury doesn’t know.”

“And you can’t tell me?” Steve guessed.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She sighed against him. “I shouldn’t even be telling you this much – it could make you hesitate at a critical moment, but…”

Steve ran his hand up and down her back. “But he’s important to you. I get it.” 

“Not just me,” Misty murmured. 

A noise in the corridor made Steve pull back. “I will do my best to bring him home to you, Misty,” he vowed softly. “You have my word.”

“I can’t ask for better than that.” She smiled once, lifted her hand to his face briefly, and then left him to change into his uniform.

~ * ~

Piloting the Quinjet close enough to the museum to drop Steve off – keeping it cloaked for now – took every bit of focus Natasha had. She’d had to pull rank to take control of the jet – CJ had wanted to pilot it, and Phil had been tempted to let him. Frankly, there were any number of more qualified pilots… but Natasha needed to do it. 

If Loki was here, so was Clint. And there was no way that Natasha was going to allow some trigger-happy stick jockey to fire on her husband.

As they approached, Natasha flipped on the enhanced surveillance equipment that would allow her to pick up the chatter on the ground… and wished she hadn’t. Loki was the worst kind of madman… the kind who thought he was doing his victims a favor.

Dozens of Lokis appeared, all wearing green and leather armor with that ridiculous gold helmet, and commanding the crowd to kneel. And then came the obligatory monologue. Any other time, Natasha would have traded barbs with Clint over that – would have laughed and joked and ultimately enjoyed the posturing… but not tonight.

“Is this not simpler?” the demigod purred. The crowd knelt, trembling, at his feet. “Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity… that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled.” The words were low and seductive now. “In the end, you will always kneel.”

Natasha watched in horror – and admiration – as a single elderly German man rose from his knees to his feet and faced the demigod. “Not to a man like you.”

Loki’s expression shifted to something manic. “There are no men like me.”

The old man’s eyes were wise and tired. “There are always men like you.”

“Look to your elder, people,” Loki’s voice rang out. He raised the scepter to point at the standing man. “Let him be an example.”

Natasha caught her breath and hated herself for the emotional reaction but just as she was consigning the brave man to Gaia… the bolt of blue light emitting from the scepter was intercepted by a vibranium shield and a supersoldier.

“You know,” Steve said conversationally, “the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else… we ended up disagreeing.”

Loki’s eye latched on Steve with an avaricious zeal. “The soldier,” he greeted. “A man out of time.”

“I’m not the one who’s out of time,” Steve replied – and Natasha knew that if she’d been able to see his face, there would have been a smirk on it.

That smirk was due mostly to Natasha dropping the stealth on the Quinjet and pulling it into Loki’s line of sight, dropping a machine gun down to point at the demigod. “Loki, drop the weapon and stand down,” Natasha ordered over the loudspeaker. 

She hadn’t expected it to work – and it didn’t. There was a rapid exchange of… scepter-fire, Natasha supposed, since it wasn’t gun-fire… and Steve wound up on the ground with the scepter at the base of his helmet.

“Kneel!” Loki demanded.

(The blank space in Natasha’s mind burned. There was no Clint remark ‘Oh, hot damn, I’d ask him to kneel too’ or something similarly lascivious. She’d never missed his levity more.)

“Not today.” Steve flipped out of Loki’s grasp and the grappling resumed – a dizzying exchange of acrobatic feints and parries that was difficult to follow, even for Natasha.

“This guy’s all over the place,” she muttered into the comms, mostly to herself.

Then – a sound. A sound coming from the speakers of the Quinjet, inside and out. It was loud, and brash, and raucous, and uncalled for –

– and the most glorious sound Natasha could think of.

Iron Man flew into sight to the sounds of AC/DC’s ‘Shoot to Thrill’, and Natasha felt it to her marrow. She’d had no idea she had that much faith in Stark – didn’t realize that his mere presence would lift a layer of dread from her soul. But the man – that infuriating, arrogant, exhausting man – had pulled off more miracles than anyone she knew (excepting maybe Catriona… and that didn’t count. Healing wasn’t what was needed right now.) Tony Stark had managed to rescue himself from a terrorist cell in the middle of the Afghani desert with a bunch of scraps, his brain, and pure nerve.

In the face of that… Clint was as good as home.

“Agent Romanoff,” Tony called through the comms he’d infiltrated. “You miss me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, blasting Loki and touching down nearby. He armed every piece of tech mounted on the suit and pointed them at Loki. “Make your move, Reindeer Games.” Loki lifted his hands in surrender, and his militaristic armor melted away. “Good move.”

“Mister Stark,” Steve greeted coolly. He shifted the shield on his arm, his eyes never leaving Loki.

“Captain.”

Natasha flicked the loudspeaker button inside the Quinjet. “I’m going to put her down in the square, we can load the prisoner – and his scepter.”

“Copy that, Romanoff.” There was no trace of Steve in the answer – only the Captain. Natasha wasn’t even sure it was Captain Rogers at the moment – she rather thought she was hearing pure Captain America.

It didn’t take long for her to land – even less time for Steve and Tony to manacle Loki and manhandle him into the cargo area of the Quinjet. Natasha stayed at the helm, though she kept glancing back at the demigod. He didn’t look evil, not really. Certainly he didn’t look like the puppet master that was holding her husband’s strings.

Steve was less gentle with Loki than he would have been with a human – partly because he had ample evidence that the demigod could take what he dished out, and partly because Steve was seething. This man… this creature… had stolen a terrible, dangerous object and set in motion a chain of events that meant that Steve’s only friend in this life was terrified for herself, her partner, and their unborn child. Steve couldn’t ignore that. Misty’s fear overrode even the injuries and deaths that could be laid at the hands of the demigod – and there’d be no saving him, if harm befell Misty or her baby. 

Natasha had one eye on the Quinjet controls and the other on the men in the jet – alternating between Tony, Steve, and Loki. She was so focused on them she nearly missed Fury’s question. “He saying anything?”

“Not a word,” Natasha replied softly, her eyes sliding to Loki. The silence bothered her. She knew – thanks to the research of a certain redheaded druid and a dedicated grasshopper – that one of Loki’s names in mythology was Silvertongue… and he was also known as the Father of Lies. Both of those titles suggested he’d be speaking… which made silence extremely suspicious.

“Just get him here,” Fury ordered. “We’re low on time.”

There was that timeline again – Natasha still did not know what deadline they were facing, but obviously she wasn’t the only one feeling the time constraint. She didn’t like that she was sharing that trait with Fury, though.

Steve was having difficulty mastering his anger at Loki – and at Stark. He hadn’t requested back-up. Hadn’t needed it. Aside from disliking the man’s showboating ways – he’d wanted to accomplish his first mission in this new time on his own. Instead, he’d gotten flashy playboy interference… and despite Phil’s assurances earlier that Steve was the right man for the job, it was hard not to feel like he was being shoved aside for the more modern, more relatable Iron Man.

“I don’t like it,” Steve murmured to Stark after an interval of silence.

With the helmet off, it was possible for Steve to see Stark’s expression – though he was nearly as difficult to read as Natasha. “What, Rock of Ages giving up so easily?”

Steve shifted on his feet. Stark’s flippancy grated… but that didn’t negate his point. “I don’t remember it being that easy.” He tilted his head towards Loki. “This guy packs a wallop.” And he had yielded suspiciously quickly when Stark appeared. Steve didn’t think it was just Stark’s firepower – Loki’s scepter had done a hell of a lot of damage in a very short amount of time. So why had he surrendered?

“Still, you are pretty spry, for an older fellow,” Stark smirked. That overly precise facial hair – which Steve was already beginning to detest – twitched as Stark suppressed a smile. “What’s your thing? Pilates?”

The non sequitur startled Steve. “What?”

“It’s like calisthenics. You might have missed a couple things, you know… doing time as a Capsicle.” 

Natasha, in the pilot’s seat, fought a smirk. She needed to pass that particular Stark nickname on – it was as good as any Clint would have come up with, and she expected it would be popular with the clan.

Steve fought not to stare openly. This was Iron Man? The man Misty described as ‘nuclear deterrent personified’ and ‘a bonafide superhero’? He was brash and arrogant and entirely unwelcome. “Fury didn’t tell me he was calling you in.”

Stark’s expression hardened. “There’s a lot Fury doesn’t tell you.” Natasha had to agree with that as well.

She might have done so verbally, but was prevented by an abrupt flash of lightning that required her attention at the Quinjet controls. It was followed by roiling clouds, thunder, and more lightning. “Where’s this coming from?” she grumbled. It had been clear when she’d taken off – and the weather forecast hadn’t mentioned a storm.

A slight rocking of the jet brought Steve’s eyes to their prisoner, noting the demigod’s preoccupation with the clouds outside. “What’s the matter?” Steve asked, half-mocking. “Scared of a little lightning?”

“I’m not overly fond of what follows,” Loki drawled.

What followed, it appeared, was for them to be forcibly boarded… and for that unwelcome boarder to snatch Loki by the throat and leave in a rumble of thunder, the vague scent of ozone, and a flash of red cape. Natasha recognized Thor from Phil’s descriptions, but she was too busy trying to control the Quinjet to tell Stark and Steve.

“Now there’s that guy,” Tony griped.

“Another Asgardian,” Natasha said – hoping one of them would understand she meant Thor, but not able to get out more of an explanation before she had to reach for the controls again, her attention split between briefing them and trying to make sure they didn’t crash.

Steve’s eyes were fixed on the point the caped man – God, the future was so weird – had exited. “That guy’s a friendly?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stark answered, grabbing his helmet. “Whether he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract’s lost.” 

Before Stark could follow the boarder, Steve caught his arm. “Stark, we need a plan of attack.”

“I have a plan,” Stark answered, jerking away. “Attack.”

Iron Man shot out of the open hatch, and Steve inwardly cursed. He grabbed a parachute and began strapping into it, the volume of internal expletives rising with every strap he fastened.

“I’d sit this one out, Cap,” Natasha called from the cockpit.

“I don’t see how I can.”

Natasha wanted to growl. “These guys come from legends,” she reminded him. “They’re basically gods.”

“There’s only one God, ma’am,” Steve said as he tightened the last strap, “and I’m pretty sure He doesn’t dress like that.”

Perhaps not, Natasha reflected as she watched Steve leap out of the Quinjet’s hatch, but it was very bold, to criticize someone else’s fashion… when wearing the gaudiest tactical suit she’d ever laid eyes on. (And, as someone married to Clint Barton, that was saying something.)

~ * ~


	7. Chapter 7

It took longer than Tony liked for JARVIS to get a lock on the Asgardians – both Loki and who Tony suspected was Thor. The cessation of the thunderstorm helped… and kind of confirmed the identity. He’d read the SHIELD reports – the red-caped guy was apparently the God of Thunder. Those reports had been fascinating, particularly the unredacted private ones filed by Coulson and Barton. Tony’d had JARVIS hack them, of course… he’d been damned curious about what Coulson had been up to in New Mexico. He’d known it had to be big, to get Agent to leave while he was dying of palladium poisoning.

Tony might not be sure if he liked Coulson, but he did trust him – as much as he trusted anyone whose names weren’t Pepper or Rhodey.

Having found the Asgardians, Tony did the expedient thing – he grabbed the flight-capable one and dragged him away to assess the threat.

“Do not touch me again,” Thor growled once he’d regained his feet.

Tony let the faceplate of his helmet come up. “Then don’t take my stuff.”

“You have no idea what you are dealing with,” the hammer-wielding caped crusader continued. 

Tony had to agree – but he didn’t have to like it. And not having the right data to form a plan made him edgy – which made him reckless. He let a smirk form. “Shakespeare in the park?” he quipped. “Doth mother know you weareth her drapes?”

He had to give it to the man – it took a hell of a lot of self-control not to rise to the bait. Instead, Thor took a bracing breath. “This is beyond you, metal man.” Which – ouch. Harsh. “Loki will face Asgardian justice.”

Extradition would be a bitch to pull off… but Tony could see it happening. Not like they had the facilities to contain him, really – not given what he’d seen of Loki’s abilities so far. “He gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then,” he let the faceplate close, “stay out of the way.” Thor started to turn away – maybe to leave, maybe to ready a strike – and Tony couldn’t stop himself. Just… couldn’t. “Tourist.”

The hammer blow didn’t surprise him. It pissed him off, but didn’t surprise him. “Okay.” He dragged himself back to a standing position and fired the repulsors at Thor before launching himself two-footed into the Asgardian’s chest. When that failed to disable him, Tony was forced to stagger back.

Thor raised the hammer to the sky and – fuck if he didn’t summon lightning to the damned hammer. Tony was too shocked by that to get out of the way when the hammer was abruptly pointed at him, and the lightning redirected into his chest piece and the arc reactor.

It took a second to recover from the glare. “Power at 400% capacity,” JARVIS informed him.

Huh. “How about that,” Tony said, stunned. That was a fuckton of energy pushed through the hammer – and the arc reactor. He could kind of understand what Thor meant about this being beyond him, now… if the guy regularly and casually threw around the kind of power that was four times more potent than the energy source Tony wore… yeah. Okay. This was the big leagues, and Tony was grasping the edges of the idea that he was maybe just a bit outclassed. He didn’t like it.

The fight continued in earnest now – testing blows were over. They flew and fought, raced through forests and crashed into mountainsides. Thor’s strength threatened to overwhelm the Iron Man suit – and despite this being a Very Serious Battle, Tony felt a thrill. He’d never fought his match, not like this. Not even against Rhodey could he use the full mettle of his creation – Rhodey was too human (and too precious to Tony) to hit with everything he had. But this – Thor was a warrior prince. He was a damned fine fighter, and Tony could tell that if they weren’t currently fighting over the custody of an international (interplanetary?) war criminal – this would be a hell of a lot of fun.

“Hey!” A loud clanging impact interrupted the bout – and Tony looked up to see Captain America perched on a rock, neatly resettling the vibranium shield on his arm. “That’s enough!”

So apparently Cap was a killjoy, too.

Steve leapt down off the ledge, his eyes never leaving Thor. “Now, I don’t know what you plan on doing here – ”

“I’ve come here to put an end to Loki’s schemes!”

“Then prove it,” Steve challenged. “Put the hammer down.”

Tony cursed to himself. “Yeah, no. Bad call,” he told the Captain. “He loves his hamm—” He didn’t get to finish the comment, as the beloved weapon in question was swung wildly at him, tossing him back out of the fray.

“You want me to put the hammer down?” Thor snarled, and launched himself into the air towards Steve.

Steve raised the shield above his head, crouching beneath it. The impact of the hammer on his vibranium shield set off what felt like an explosion. Thor was flung backwards – Steve was knocked onto his back – and the shield landed on the forest floor. Around them, a shockwave knocked foliage flat in a nearly fifty foot radius – flat, scorched, and broken.

The three combatants dragged themselves to their feet, looking at each other warily. “Are we done here?” Steve asked.

Thor regarded the two warriors in front of him with pursed lips. “You are strong defenders – and it is your planet upon which Loki has done evil. If you will allow me to accompany you, and speak for Asgard in these matters, I will accede to your custody of Loki.”

“Swell.” Steve brushed dirt and debris off his uniform. “Romanoff?”

“Here, Cap,” Natasha answered into the comms. “I saw that explosion, I’m putting the jet down about fifty feet from you.” She paused. “Think you can actually stay on it for the ride up this time?”

Tony snorted. “Was that humor, Natashalie? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Don’t call me that.” But it was reassuringly familiar – he’d teased her about almost the exact same thing after the Battle of Stark Expo. “What’s everybody’s status?”

“Worried about me, Agent Romanoff?” Tony teased. “You don’t want to make Pepper jealous.”

Despite herself, Natasha laughed. “Pepper knows better. Come on, Stark. Report.”

“I’m fine. Capsicle’s dusty, but walking under his own power. Red cape’s fine too – at least, I assume he is, given he just launched himself into the air with that hammer of his, and carried back the prisoner.” Tony was a little uneasy about that… but Thor did bring Loki back to the clearing.

Steve scowled. He didn’t like Stark’s casual report – didn’t like much of anything about Stark, really. And though it didn’t appear to bother Natasha – the man’s disrespectful tone towards her grated on Steve’s nerves. She was an extremely capable agent – and Misty nearly worshipped her. That pushed her into the same realm as Peggy Carter, Sarah Rogers, and Winifred Barnes – women to be revered, feared and above all – respected. To distract himself from Stark’s behavior, Steve strode towards Thor. He pulled off his right uniform gauntlet and extended his hand. “Captain Steven Rogers. Pleasure to meet you.”

Thor looked at his hand a moment before grasping it. Rather than his hand, Thor grabbed his forearm. “Prince Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard. Well met.” He released Steve and turned to Tony expectantly.

Rolling his eyes, Tony extended his own hand – glad that the Iron Man suit gave him an excuse not to meet the handshake barehanded. “Tony Stark. Iron Man.” He’d be damned if he’d give them the full name and title treatment – that was for people he wanted to impress.

“You are a noble warrior, Man of Iron,” Thor complimented with a regal nod of his head. “Were we not currently engaged in a task of utmost importance, I would enjoy sparring with you.”

Tony didn’t bother to stifle the wolfish grin on his face. “Feeling’s mutual. Maybe when this is all over, yeah?”

Steve fought back another scowl, turning to where the Quinjet was landing. “Let’s just get back to the ship.”

~ * ~

Natasha didn’t know how she managed to dock the Quinjet – wasn’t thinking clearly by the time she’d unlatched her safety harness and fled the cockpit. She didn’t hear Steve call after her – just knew she needed to get away before she crumbled.

They hadn’t found Clint.

She hurried to Phil’s quarters, not really caring if anyone saw her. She didn’t have quarters of her own on the helicarrier… only the truly senior agents had assigned quarters. The rest of the agents shared dorm-style barracks, and Natasha needed privacy right now. So, Phil’s quarters it was – it was either his or Maria’s, and his were at least familiar.

She didn’t bother to lock the door, just flung herself on the narrow bunk. She couldn’t cry, couldn’t give herself that release. Her shoulders shook as she fought for control. How could they have the puppet master, and still not have Clint? She’d been so sure that Clint would be with him, that finding Loki would mean finding her husband. Where was he, if not here? What did Loki intend to do with him?

Desperately, she probed the aching void in her mind. Still nothing. Still as black and silent as a tomb. Her throat caught. Gaia had assured her that Clint was alive, that the Goddess would know if he died, but would Natasha? Could Gaia reach her to tell her, here on the helicarrier?

Natasha grabbed Phil’s pillow and clutched it to herself, curling up around it. She’d held it together during the mission – but that control was slipping through her fingers now… just like the tears that were slowly rolling out of her cheeks, and onto the rough cotton bedclothes.

The door was pushed open, and Phil slipped in. He locked the door behind him and shed his suit jacket before crawling onto the bunk next to her. “Natasha,” he whispered as he gathered her into his arms. “Sweetheart, I’m here.”

Sobbing openly now, she buried her head against him. “He wasn’t there,” she choked out.

Phil closed his eyes, tears of his own joining hers. “I know, love. I know.” He pulled her impossibly closer, tucking her in as tightly as he could. “We’ll find him.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered. “Phil – what if – what if we lose him?” 

His hands stilled on her back. “We won’t.” He prayed to the Goddess, to the God he’d grown up worshipping – hell, he directed a general prayer at the entirety of the universe and any being listening that his husband would be alright, would return to them.

“What if we do?” Natasha’s voice was so soft, so scared that it shattered the pieces of Phil’s broken heart. “Will you – will we – Phil.” He made a soft noise to encourage her to continue. “Will you still love me if I can’t bring him home?”

“Goddess, yes,” Phil breathed, his arms holding her painfully tight. “If – if we lose him, love, it won’t be your fault. It wouldn’t make me stop loving you. How I feel about you isn’t dependent on him, love – I swear.” He kissed her temple, the nearest skin to his lips. “It never has been.” She shifted in his arms, raised her head to look at him. Even swollen with tears, she was breathtaking, and Phil was caught up again in how much he adored her, and how fiercely they loved each other. “Sweetheart, there is nothing I would not do to keep you and Clint safe – or to bring one of you home. We can do this, love,” he promised. “You and me and the clan. We’ll find him, free him, fix him. Bring him home where he belongs. You and me, we’ve got a date with vodka and brownies and a husband inspection, remember?”

It took her a long moment to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I remember.” She squirmed until he loosened his grasp on her, sitting up enough to really look at him. Natasha cupped a hand around his chin, rubbing his cheekbone with her thumb. He leaned into the touch. “I love you both.”

“I love you both,” Phil replied, and caught her hand to press a kiss to the palm.

She leaned down and kissed his lips instead – slow and unhurried, but with a thoroughness that he appreciated. When the kiss ended she didn’t pull away but hovered just above him, sharing breath. “We need to get back, before we’re missed.”

“I know.” Phil closed the distance between them for another kiss. “Will you be alright, my love?”

“I’ll soldier on.” She smiled a little. “Feels weird to quote your Captain America comics now that I’ve met the man.” Natasha eased herself upright, running her hands through her hair. “Do I look as destroyed as I feel?”

Phil sat up as well. “You look perfect.”

“Hopeless romantic.” She smiled, a little weakly, and rose. “Get back to work, secret agent man – we’ve got a husband to retrieve.”

~ * ~

Steve stayed with Thor and the prisoner when Natasha disappeared. Stark left a moment later, saying something about needing to repair his armor. Steve assumed it was an excuse to avoid… something. (A part of him recognized that he was being unfair, but he was irritated, tired, and bruised. His serum might heal his injuries rapidly, but that didn’t mean they didn’t hurt… and he hadn’t had the benefit of a metal suit of armor when he’d taken on the God of Thunder.)

An entire cadre of suited up SHIELD agents arrived to escort the prisoner to lockup. Steve was happy to turn him over – and happier yet to get a chance to take off his cowl, comb his hair, and find some semblance of calm.

That bubble of calm didn’t last. He stood facing the mirror, just… looking… when he noticed someone standing in the doorway. Steve turned, his eyebrow already raised. “Can I help you?”

The woman folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. “Maybe.” But no request was forthcoming.

“Ah…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Generally speaking, when a dame – lady – woman is mad at me, I at least have a clue what I did to upset her.”

A small smile flickered. “I see you’ve been listening to Misty about how to address female agents.”

Oh. This must be another one of Misty’s people… and judging from the woman’s stance, it was one of the other senior agents. Natasha had said there were four in Misty’s inner circle – if his understanding was correct, this would be the last of them. “I try to listen to everything Misty tells me.”

“Smart.” The brunette pushed off the doorframe and moved towards him, extending her hand. “We haven’t met yet. I’m Deputy Director Maria Hill.”

He shook her hand, noting that it was a crisp and perfectly firm handshake, one that any man would be proud of… though he was smart enough not to say that. Or really, even think it loudly – he half expected Misty and the women she interacted with to be able to pluck his thoughts straight from his brain. “Captain Steven Rogers.”

“I knew that.” Maria smiled a little. “Fury sent me to make sure you didn’t drown in the head. He doesn’t seem to have much faith in your ability to adapt.”

“Or in Misty’s teaching, apparently.” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck again. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Steve appraised her again, carefully. She almost bristled under it, but there was nothing sexual in the gaze. “Are you Army?”

That made Maria laugh. “No. Former Marine.” 

“Jarhead, huh?” Steve found himself grinning. “Officer, right? I was just – you carry yourself like one. A good one.”

“I was, yeah.” Maria’s smile faltered a little, but she knew Steve hadn’t intended it as an insult – being called officer material by Captain America was definitely supposed to be a compliment. He didn’t know that her time as an officer had some bad memories.

“Didn’t get a chance to serve with many Marines,” Steve said, leaning against the sink. “Heard good things about them. You see much action?”

Maria’s breath caught. “Enough.” She blew it out slowly. “I expect Misty hasn’t covered it yet. I was in Afghanistan, part of Operation Enduring Freedom.”

Steve shook his head slowly. “She hasn’t – but the look on your face says I won’t like it.” He raised a hand. “Sorry. I don’t mean to press. I was just… finding common ground, I guess.”

“Me talking about my time in Afghanistan requires privacy – and a shit ton of alcohol,” Maria told him solemnly. “After this is over, if you feel like pickling some brain cells with me, we can trade war stories. But I expect you to pony up Howlie tales, if I’m going to spill my guts.”

“It’s a date,” he said, then blinked. “Not – not like a date, date,” he added hurriedly. “I didn’t mean – ”

She started to chuckle, and it became a full laugh. “I know you didn’t. Misty said you weren’t on the market – I’m not either. But two soldiers swapping stories in a saloon is my idea of a fine non-romantic-date.”

“Well, good.” He straightened up, smiling at her.

“Come on, soldier boy.” She turned and beckoned him to follow. “Fury wants us to watch his interview with Loki, and then debrief.”

~ * ~

Bruce felt the slight vibration of the floor that meant people moving in the corridor – a lot of people. He looked up from his word to see a dozen heavily armored SHIELD agents escorting the prisoner past his glass-walled laboratory. 

Far from looking cowed, Loki looked – smug.

And he smiled at Bruce as he walked past. Manacled, surrounded by armed guards, and captive by one of the most powerful organizations in the world… and he smiled.

Bruce removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose against the flare of a headache.

“Dude,” Angie said, coming back into the room. “Was that Loki?”

“It was.” Bruce turned to take the mug of tea she offered and sniffed it. This was a different blend – no raspberry in this. “What is this one called?”

Angie leaned forward to sniff the tea herself. “Umm… this one is RemeTea.”

“Whoever names these has an odd sense of humor.” Bruce sipped it, and was startled to feel the headache almost immediately start to fade. “What the hell?”

“I know, right?” Angie grinned. “She makes it for Phil’s paperwork headaches. I keep a stash handy.” She gestured at the glass windows. “Now, wanna tell me why the hot scary guy was grinning at you like you’re fucking dinner?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Am I dinner, or making love to dinner?”

“Very funny.”

“You’re the one who used imprecise expletives.” He slid his glasses back on. “I don’t know that he was looking at me, exactly. Or why. As far as I know, he’s never met me or the other guy. He was probably just using psychological warfare, trying to psych us out.”

“Yeah?” Angie asked dryly. She leaned forward to whisper, “It’s working.”

~ * ~

Steve sat at the conference table on the bridge with Natasha, a large monitor open to the room which contained the glass holding cell. Behind him, Bruce paced. Thor stood nearby – not watching, but listening.

On screen, Fury was posturing – and Loki was boasting. Both attitudes pissed Steve off. 

Hearing a teammate called a mindless beast pissed him off too.

Bruce didn’t seem offended by Loki’s comment, and that just added another layer of irritation. Sure, Steve hadn’t actually seen the Hulk in battle yet – but he’d read the briefings. Watched video. He didn’t think Hulk was as evil or dangerous as Loki did… or as Bruce did. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha make a moue of distaste and shifted to meet her gaze. She flicked an eyebrow at Bruce, and Steve nodded a little. They were in agreement, then – Bruce was not a monster. Good.

It was always good to have allies when defending a teammate… even if it was against themselves.

Natasha’s expression was otherwise carefully blank. She listened to both Fury’s words and Loki’s rebuttal with perfect impassivity… except for that tapping finger. Idly, Steve wondered if she was actually using a code to transmit information, or if it was just a nervous habit. He wouldn’t put it past her to have some elaborate ability to communicate… something so classified that only her chosen target would have a prayer of understanding.

The observation screen went blank after Fury’s wisecrack about a magazine, and Steve fought the urge to roll his eyes at the Director’s theatrics. It was a moment before anyone spoke.

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” Bruce said drily.

Steve mastered the urge to snort, but he appreciated the light tone. “Loki’s gonna drag this out, so… Thor, what’s his play?”

Thor turned towards them, drawing himself out of his apparent reverie. “He has an army called the Chitauri. They’re not of Asgard… or any world known.” The prince sounded tired – well, Steve was tired too, but this sounded emotional rather than physical. “He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.”

“An army. From outer space.” Steve bit back a sigh. Damn, he wanted a drink. Not that it would do any good – he hadn’t been able to get drunk since Project Rebirth, much to his dismay – but a gin and tonic would make this utterly bizarre day go down a little easier.

“So, he’s building another portal,” Bruce surmised. “That’s what he needs Erik Selvig for.”

Thor’s attention sharpened on Bruce. “Selvig?”

“He’s an astrophysicist.”

“He’s a friend.” Thor straightened, no longer lost in thought – thinking now not of the fallen brother, but of a captured friend.

“Loki has him under some kind of spell,” Natasha said flatly, “along with one of ours.” Her husband, Natasha’s mind screamed. Bruce’s eyes widened as he remembered the connection – that Natasha had confided who the missing agent was to her. His eyes flickered to her in compassion, but she looked away.

“I want to know why Loki let us take him.” Steve leaned back in his chair, his eyes darting between his teammates. “He’s not leading an army from here.” At least, not in any way that Steve could understand. There was the whole magical thing to think about… but if he thought about it too hard, he’d give himself an aneurysm. Could he even get an aneurysm, he wondered?

Bruce hummed. “I don’t think we should be focusing on Loki.” He shook his head. “The guy’s brain is a bag full of cats. You could smell the crazy on him.”

“Have a care how you speak,” Thor rumbled. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

Natasha didn’t look up from the table. “He’s killed eighty people in two days.” And had her husband.

“He’s adopted?” Thor offered weakly.

~ * ~

Phil tracked Stark down in one of the unused engineering bays, where he’d managed to relocated a welder and a stash of other tools, and was working on the Mark VI suit. “Agent,” Stark greeted him without looking up from his repairs. 

“Fury wanted you to watch the interrogation with your team,” Phil said from the doorway. He’d learned his lesson about entering Stark workspace – one tended to get drafted.

“I’m busy.” Tony grabbed a tool that Phil didn’t recognize and stuck it between his teeth. “Haffa fix dis afore ee need id.” There was logic to that – it was entirely likely that they would need the Iron Man suit, so repairing it was indeed necessary, Phil acknowledged. “Snot m’ team ennyay.”

“It is your team,” Phil insisted. “A rather dysfunctional one at this point, but a team nonetheless.”

Tony removed the tool from his mouth and applied it to the leg of the Iron Man suit. “I don’t do teams, Agent Coulson. Besides. I wasn’t recommended, remember? Your Agent Natashalie wrote the report. Didn’t you read it?”

Phil sighed. That damned report came back to bite them more often than he wanted to admit. “She was wrong.” And knew it – but Fury had refused to amend the report. “I told you after Calgary that—”

“What, so I save a school full of kids and suddenly Tony Stark is recommended?”

“Yes.” Phil stepped into the engineering bay and picked up the tool Tony was searching for. He held it out on his palm, not sure if the inventor would take it – he didn’t like to be handed things.

Tony’s hand hovered over the wrench for almost six seconds before he plucked it from Phil’s grasp. “Why?”

“Do you know how hard it is to fool Agent Romanoff?” Phil said instead. “You’re one hell of an actor, Mister Stark. You managed to convince the Black Widow that you didn’t care. But you couldn’t keep the facade up – not all the time.” Phil leaned closer. “You disarmed the bomb, yeah. Without your suit. You refused to identify yourself to the press, to take credit.”

“Iron Man wasn’t supposed to be—”

“And then,” Phil continued doggedly, “you paid for six months therapy for each one of those kids, because you felt responsible for them seeing their teacher wearing a suicide bomb vest, even though there was no way you could have predicted it – or changed the outcome. Those aren’t the actions of a narcissist, Mister Stark.” Tony was silent as he traced the path of a circuit on his left boot… unnecessarily. “Fine.” As usual, conversations with Tony left him feeling drained… more drained, given the day he’d had. “You don’t have to believe me, or even acknowledge it. That doesn’t make them any less your team – and you’re needed on the bridge.” Phil stood. “Come with me, Mister Stark.”

Tony set aside his tools and rose to obey before he’d made a conscious decision to do so. Scowling, he glared at Phil – and his eyes lit up with unholy glee. “Agent!”

That particular tone never boded well. “Yes, Mister Stark?”

As they began to move towards the bridge, Tony reached out to touch Phil’s collar. “I didn’t know you had a girl in this port. Does it count as a port, when we’re on a ship? Does it count as a girl in every port, or is it the same girl in each port?”

Phil bit back a snarl and a sigh, and settled for a question. “What are you talking about?”

“Lipstick!” Tony almost sang the word. “There is lipstick on your collar, Agent Coulson.”

Son of a bitch. He knew he should have checked in the mirror… but they’d been in a hurry. “That is none of your concern, Mister Stark.” This is what came from trying to have a serious conversation with Tony, Phil realized. He’d made the man uncomfortable – and unlike a normal, sensible, adult man… Tony reacted by lashing out with taunts. 

“Aw, come on,” Tony wheedled. “What’s her name? It is a she, isn’t it? Or do you have a thing for pretty boys?”

Phil closed his eyes briefly and counted to ten. “I am not discussing my love life with you, Mister Stark.”

“That’s alright,” Tony said breezily. “I can make it up. She’s obviously on the ship – the lipstick’s too fresh. That’s terrible affairing, by the way, carrying on at work. You should treat her to a romantic weekend somewhere tropical.” They reached the door to the bridge but Tony just kept talking. “I’ll fly you there. Keep the love alive.” He winked at Phil just as he heard Bruce ask,

“Iridium? What did they need iridium for?”

“It’s a stabilizing agent,” Tony answered blithely. “Means the portal won’t collapse in on itself, like it did at SHIELD.” He strolled over to Thor and patted one large beefy arm. “No hard feelings there, Point Break. You’ve got a mean swing.” 

Phil wanted to sigh again – Tony was acting more manic than usual, and it was his own fault for upsetting the genius. 

“Also, it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long, as Loki wants,” Tony continued to Bruce. His attention shifted to the bridge crew. “Uh, raise the mid-mast. Ship the top sails.” 

The bridge crew, to their credit, only looked mildly surprised to be thusly addressed.

“That man is playing Galaga!” Tony pointed an accusatory finger at one of the bridge techs. “Thought we wouldn’t notice… but we did.” Tony covered one eye with his hand and looked around the bridge from Fury’s work station. “How does Fury do this?”

Maria regarded him warily. “He turns.”

Tony grunted. “Sounds exhausting.” He ran his fingers along Fury’s console, slipping an almost imperceptible piece of tech onto the base of the console. “The rest of the materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily.” Tony bounced back to the main topic so quickly that Phil had conversational whiplash. “Only major component he still needs is a power source. A high energy density, something to…” he gestured with his hands, “kick start the cube.”

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?” Maria challenged.

“Last night.” Steve wanted to scream at Tony’s arrogance. “The packet, Selvig’s notes, the Extraction Theory papers,” Tony rambled on. “Am I the only one who did the reading?”

Steve grit his teeth. “Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?”

Bruce rubbed a hand over his face. “He’s got to heat the cube to a hundred and twenty million Kelvin just to break the Coulomb barrier.” He met Tony’s eyes, wondering if the rumors were true – wondering if the man would pick up his thoughts – could carry the science.

“Unless… Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect.” Tony couldn’t quite control his excitement – but far from riling him up further, he felt himself settling. Coulson had upset him – though he’d utterly deny that Agent had any power to affect his emotional state at all – with talk of teams and compassion and implied gratitude. This, though – the meeting of minds of two scientists… this was soothing his soul in ways he would never admit to needing.

“Well,” Bruce countered, unable to entire prevent a smile from growing on his face, “if he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet.”

Tony wanted to beam, but settled for announcing, “Finally! Someone who speaks English.”

“Is that what just happened?” Steve muttered.

The scientists ignored him – Tony, because ignoring Steve was becoming critical for his continued function and Bruce because Tony was fascinating. “It’s good to meet you, Doctor Banner,” Tony said as their hands met in a shake. “Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled.” His eyes twinkled. “And I’m a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster.”

Bruce huffed out a small, amused laugh. “Thanks.” The utter lack of fear – and refusal to avoid the subject – immediately endeared the man to him. Very few people every approached Bruce with that kind of openness… though… he realized now that most of them were on this ship now. He’d gotten more acceptance and welcome from the people in this room and on this helicarrier in the past two days than he had in all the years since his accident.

“Doctor Banner is only here to track the cube,” Fury said as he stepped up to his consoles, facing the conference table. “I was hoping you might join him,” he added to Tony.

“Let’s start with that stick of his,” Steve suggested. “It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a Hydra weapon.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is powered by the cube,” Fury stated. Steve’s eyebrows drew together. That seemed like a leap. Loki had already had the scepter when he stole the Tesseract – what made Fury think the two were connected? If that were true, wouldn’t Loki have needed the cube first? “And I’d like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys.” 

Phil had to turn away at that – had to swallow hard at the reminder that his husband was nothing more than a slave to a madman at the moment. The reminder stung even more for being delivered so callously – Fury might not know that Clint was his husband, but he knew damned well that Agent Barton had been an asset for Agent Coulson for ten years – that should have earned him at least some measure of compassion.

Oblivious to the rising tension, Thor hummed a interrogatory noise. “Monkeys? I do not understand.”

“I do!” Steve said, pointing at Thor. “I… understood that reference,” he added lamely when all eyes landed on him. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but he was just so relieved to get one… to not feel completely excluded.

Tony rolled his eyes at Steve and turned to Bruce. “Shall we play, Doctor?”

One corner of Bruce’s mouth lifted. “Let’s play some.” He gestured for Tony to precede him out of the conference area, and gave him directions to the lab that Natasha had provided.

~ * ~

Maria’s hands were tight on the bridge console – the only outward sign of her distress.

More than distress. Outright panic. Because her bunny – and the cricket – were on this ship with a monster and a murderer, and there wasn’t a damned thing she could do about it.

She’d been able to control herself – mostly – when it had been just the Hulk to think about. Gaia apparently trusted Banner – had asked the clan to keep an eye out for him, to trust him. Fine. Maria could accept that, even if the giant green rage monster (and damn, she hated that Stark’s quip had already snuck into her vocabulary) scared the ever-loving shit out of her. 

But Loki was a horse of a different color, to steal another Wizard of Oz metaphor. Eighty people in two days by Natasha’s count – which was probably pretty accurate, as she could usually be counted on to keep a kill tally. That was how much blood was on the hands of the man that now occupied the holding cell built for Banner. The man who’d stolen her clanmate, and now threatened her bunny and the cricket by his very presence.

Maria’s hands were trembling on the console now, and she forced herself to take several deep breaths.

Quietly, Phil stepped up next to her. “Do you need to take a break?” he asked in an undertone. “I expect I can monitor the bridge crew long enough for you to – top off your batteries.”

“Wouldn’t help.” Maria didn’t look at him, but her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Seeing her would just make the worry worse.”

“I can pretty much guarantee that’s not how it works, Ria.” He brushed closer to her, still circumspect but near enough to offer physical reassurance. “Would you rather one of the other fledglings?”

“No.” Maria forced herself to take a deep breath. “If I take a break, it’ll be to see – to visit Tactical. But I shouldn’t.”

Phil reached unnecessarily for a control on her console, letting his hand brush against hers. “If you won’t go, would you like a report from CJ, or someone else, that she’s alright?”

“I know she’s fine,” Maria whispered. “I know she is. I just…”

“Go,” Phil ordered – and Maria felt her spine snap taught. He so rarely used his command voice that she’d almost forgotten he could. “Take a break, at least fifteen minutes in Misty’s company. I will watch your station for you, laoch scail.”

“Yes, sir.” Maria brushed her hand against his in gratitude before departing to follow his orders. 

She found Misty still in the Tactical room. Her pony tail was coming loose and her eyes were puffy, but she was fine. Perfectly fine. Misty looked up as she entered and raised an eyebrow. “Ducks?” She was alone in the room – at least, for the moment. “What is it?”

“Phil sent me to top off my batteries.” Maria approached her hesitantly – not sure just how long they’d be alone.

Misty apparently either knew the timeline or didn’t care if they were discovered, because she slid into Maria’s arms as easily as she would have at home. On the other hand, Misty was well-known to be tactile… perhaps she simply did not fear what people would think. “I’m fine,” Misty murmured. “Me and cricket both. I could use a nap or a cup of coffee… which I have already maxed out on today, according to Catriona, so no more coffee for me.”

“I wish I could give you a nap,” Maria whispered. “Take one together. Curl up in our quarters—”

“Your quarters,” Misty corrected.

“Ours.” Maria’s arms tightened around her. “My name’s on the door, which makes it yours too.”

“Sap.”

Maria flicked her eyes around the room before pressing a kiss to Misty’s forehead. “For you, absolutely.”

Misty tilted her head up. “I want a proper kiss, ducks.”

Any other day, Maria would have argued – would have tried to resist her bunny’s allure, tried to be professional. But… she was currently on a floating ship with two demigods, a supersoldier, a giant green rage monster, a Warrior of Gaia, and a druid. This was not a time to pretend that everything was business as usual… it was a time for carpeing the fucking diem. So Maria tightened her arms around her lover and bent to press her lips against Misty’s lovely pink ones.

When they parted, Misty raised a hand to stroke the hair away from Maria’s face. “All topped off now, ducks?” The words were light, but the look in Misty’s eyes was anything but.

“Yeah.” She pressed her forehead against Misty’s for a moment longer. “Okay. Time’s up. Back to saving the world.”

Misty snagged Maria’s hand before she could go far, and pressed it to her abdomen. “We love you.”

Emotion swamped Maria again. “I love you too. Both of you.”

~ * ~


	8. Chapter 8

The lab felt weirdly quiet without Angie in it, Bruce thought. He’d sent the young woman off to the barracks to get a few hours of sleep when he’d been summoned up to the bridge, but now regretted it. Aside from appreciating her help… he thought she’d like a chance to meet Tony Stark.

Tony unpacked cases of technology that made Bruce’s mouth water. He’d forgotten what it was like to work with the right tools – to work with exactly what you wanted, the best available. Bruce hadn’t had that since his early days of academia, and it was a powerful intoxicant.

Working together was… seamless. Tony hadn’t felt the easy camaraderie in the lab since MIT with Rhodey – and Rhodey was never free to spend hours in the lab or workshop with him anymore. Hadn’t in years – decades. The uncomplicated give-and-take relaxed Tony and he found the numbers and ideas that normally crowded his brain were settling into something more manageable. Still there – the constant press of knowledge and theorems and deductions – but he could push them aside and choose what to focus on.

“The gamma readings are definitely consistent with Selvig’s reports on the Tesseract,” Bruce said as he scanned Loki’s scepter. He ran a hand through his graying hair. “But it’s going to take weeks to process.”

Tony snorted, flicking his fingers elegantly across a touchscreen. “If we bypass their mainframe and direct route to the Homer cluster, we can clock this at around six hundred teraflops.”

“All I packed was a toothbrush,” Bruce murmured, his eyes dancing. The power that Tony wielded so casually was staggering – the processing power that he could bring to bear upon the problem was probably the greatest single use on the planet at any given time… and he offered it as easily as he might suggest ordering a pizza, or turning the TV to a cable channel.

“You know, you should come by Stark Tower sometime.” His eyes flickered over to Bruce as he worked. “Top ten floors, all R&D. You’d love it. It’s Candyland.”

Bruce chuckled weakly. “Thanks, but the last time I was in New York, I kind of broke… Harlem.” 

Tony knew that – he just didn’t care. Not with a mind like that. He wanted Bruce in his labs – in his life. And not, he admitted to himself, in the sexual way it sounded – not that Bruce wasn’t attractive. Even if he hadn’t had Pepper… the idea of a friendship with someone that brilliant was far more attractive than sex appeal. “Well, I promise a stress-free environment,” Tony said after a moment. “No tension. No surprises.” He produced a tiny electrical prod and jabbed Bruce in the side with it.

“Ow!” 

Tony grinned. “Nothing?” He peered closer at the gamma scientist, looking for a hint of green. Bruce batted him away with a laugh.

Steve walked in just as the prod connected with Bruce – and he was livid. “Hey! Are you nuts?” he demanded of Tony.

“Jury’s out,” Tony retorted to Steve, his full attention still on Bruce. “You really have got a lid on it, haven’t you? What’s your secret? Mellow jazz?” The longer he spoke, the more amused Bruce looked. “Bongo drums? Huge bag of weed?”

“Is everything a joke to you?” Steve snapped.

“Funny things are.” Tony pointed the prod at Steve. Bruce tried to hide his smile.

Steve bit back a growl. “Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn’t funny.” Particularly when that number included Misty and the cricket – because that was a carelessness that Steve couldn’t abide. “No offense, doctor.”

Bruce shook his head. “No, it’s alright. I wouldn’t have come aboard if I couldn’t handle… pointy things.” He flicked an eyebrow at the prod in Tony’s hand, still amused.

“You’re tiptoeing, big man,” Tony accused. “You need to strut.”

“And you need to focus on the problem, Mister Stark,” Steve said.

It was Tony’s turn to bite back a growl. “You think I’m not?” To occupy his hands – and be sure he didn’t use them to strangle the captain – he pulled a bag of dried fruit from one of the cabinets and popped a handful into his mouth. He whirled to face the captain. “Why did Fury call us in? Why now? Why not before? What isn’t he telling us? I can’t do the equation unless I have all the variables.”

Steve snorted. “You think Fury’s hiding something?” Steve had to agree – but Fury wasn’t the only one holding out. Misty obviously had information that she hadn’t shared with Fury, something about the missing agent. His gut said it was critical… and agreed with her decision to withhold it from Fury. His brain was unhappy with the gut’s opinion – he liked to believe he was the kind of man who followed orders. (There was a memory of a voice in his head that thought the idea of him following orders was absurd.)

“He’s a spy.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Captain, he’s the spy. His secrets have secrets.” He pointed at Bruce. “It’s bugging him too, isn’t it?”

Called on the carpet, Bruce lifted his shoulder uncomfortably. “Umm… I just want to finish my work here and…”

“Doctor?” Steve pressed, his eyebrow raised.

Bruce sighed. “A warm light for all mankind. Loki’s jab at Fury about the cube.”

“I heard it…?”

“Well, I think that was meant for you.” He pointed at Tony, who offered him the bag of fruit. Bruce plucked a few dried bits out. “Even if Barton didn’t tell Loki about the Tower, it was still all over the news.”

“Stark Tower?” Steve rolled his eyes. “That big ugly… building in New York?” Tony wondered if Steve disliked it on principle or artistic merit. Maybe if it said ‘Potts’ on the side of the building, Captain Judgmental wouldn’t disapprove.

“It’s powered by an arc reactor, self-sustaining energy source,” Bruce continued without acknowledging the tension. He had no desire to involve himself in whatever beef the two men had – even if he natural inclination was ordinarily to try and mediate conflict. He hadn’t known Tony long – but long enough to realize he had no hope of breaking through the man’s complex walls to get at whatever was causing him to butt heads with Steve so spectacularly. “That building will run itself for what, a year?”

With pardonable pride, Tony nodded. “That’s just the prototype.” He shrugged a shoulder at Steve. “I’m kind of the only name in clean energy right now, is what he’s getting at.”

“So… why didn’t SHIELD bring him in on the Tesseract project? I mean, what are they doing in the energy business in the first place?” 

Steve looked troubled – because he’d doubted that motive when Fury had first suggested it. Unlimited sustainable energy, Fury had said – it sounded just as unrealistic now as it had in his gym. Not the potential of the Tesseract… but that a government agency could use it for such a noble purpose. They’d had Erskine’s serum and Project Rebirth – they’d used it to remake him. But once the powers that be in the government got hold of him he became nothing more than a pawn. If a wartime government couldn’t properly wield the power of one man… what reason did Steve have to think they could do any better with this?

“I should probably look into that…” Tony’s hands danced over the screen, “once my decryption program finishes breaking into all of SHIELD’s secure files.” Again – he hacked them regularly just to stay in practice, but it had been some time since he had a physical linkup on the helicarrier.

Steve stared. “I’m sorry, did you say – ”

“JARVIS has been running it since I hit the bridge.” Tony lifted his eyes to Steve’s. “In a few hours, we’ll know every dirty secret SHIELD has ever tried to hide.” He held out a bag of dried fruit to Steve. “Blueberry?”

With a scowl, Steve knocked the bag away. “Yet you’re confused about why they didn’t want you around?”

Tony had to fight not to show his reaction on his face – yes, he might be the kind of actor that could fool Agent Romanoff, but he was tired and it had been a very weird day. “An intelligence organization that fears intelligence?” he said quietly when he could control his temper. “Historically? Not awesome.”

Fed up with the histrionics, Steve straightened his posture into something more akin to a command stance. “I think Loki’s trying to wind us up. This is a man who means to start a war, and if we don’t stay focused… he’ll succeed.” He looked over to Bruce, meeting the scientist’s gaze to hopefully convey his sincerity. “We have orders. We should follow them.”

“Following’s not really my style.” Tony tossed back another handful of dried fruit, daring Steve to react.

“And you’re all about style, aren’t you?” Steve’s tone was dangerously level. It was what the Howlies had called his ‘pull it’ voice – because it meant you had thirty seconds to either pull the pin on a grenade to take the target out or pull the ripcord on a parachute to jump away from the problem before Steve went off on whoever he was speaking to. (Bucky had a third ‘pull’ option – Steve had rather enjoyed those instances.)

Tony was immune to the voice – it wasn’t as powerful as the Agent-Coulson-Is-In-Charge voice that Agent subjected him to… and neither could hold a candle to Pepper’s Elegant-Empress voice. “Of the people in this room, which one is A) wearing a spangly outfit and B) not of use?”

“Steve,” Bruce cut in before more barbs could be traded. “Tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

A little funky didn’t begin to cover it – but that didn’t excuse the insubordination of hacking SHIELD files. Steve’s own suspicions were that they were dealing with something a lot bigger than Fury knew. “Just find the cube,” he ordered sharply before striding out of the room.

The tension dropped in the lab as soon as the door closed behind Steve. Bruce hummed a little to himself and wondered. Steve hadn’t seemed that unreasonable to him before… and Tony didn’t either, when the two of them were separate. What was it that kicked them into open dislike?

“That’s the guy my dad never shut up about?” Tony burst out – and oh, that made much more sense to Bruce. “Wondering if they shouldn’t have kept him on ice.”

Bruce debated with himself and decided not to step in that particular conversational minefield. He had a great deal of respect for daddy issues – his were legion, after all. Now wasn’t a good time to discuss them with Tony. Even if he had finished that psychology degree, one wasn’t supposed to practice on friends… and Bruce was hoping that Tony would become just that. “The guy’s not wrong about Loki,” Bruce pointed out, hoping it was suitably neutral. “He does have the jump on us.”

Tony scowled. He didn’t like acknowledging Steve’s point, and didn’t know why entirely. “What he’s got is an ACME dynamite kit,” he said as he worked. “It’s going to blow up in his face… and I’m gonna be there when it does.”

Bruce laughed under his breath. “And I’ll read all about it.” 

“Mmmhmm.” Tony’s eyes slid to him. “Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

He couldn’t suppress a shiver. “Ah. You see… I don’t get a suit of armor.” His tone dropped, all humor drained away. “I’m exposed. Like a nerve.” His hands stilled on the screen. “It’s a nightmare.”

Tony paused as well, his body turning to face Bruce even though he kept his eyes on their work. “You know… I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel trying every second to crawl its way into my heart.” He tapped the arc reactor in his chest. “This stops it. This little circle of light.” He stepped away from his workstation and towards Bruce, but left a screen between them to give the other scientist some measure of space. “It’s a part of me now, not just armor. It’s a… terrible privilege.”

“But you can control it.”

“Because I learned how.”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s different.” Tony had managed to make something beautiful and powerful out of his tragedy – Bruce couldn’t put Hulk in the same class as the arc reactor. Hulk was only good for destroying things. The arc reactor might have dangerous possibilities – but it could also heat homes and feed the hungry.

Tony swept all the data away from the screen, so that only the clear surface remained between them. “Hey, I’ve read all about your accident. That much gamma radiation should’ve killed you.”

“So you’re saying that the Hulk – the other guy – saved my life?” Bruce huffed. “That’s nice. It’s a nice sentiment.” One he clearly disagreed with. “Saved it for… what?”

“I guess we’ll find out.” Tony stepped back to his console.

Bruce shook his head as he pulled data streams back onto his screen. “You may not enjoy that.”

“You just might.”

~ * ~

Steve didn’t want to admit that Tony and Bruce’s comments in the lab had brought his own doubts to the forefront – but it was fruitless to deny, given he was currently prowling the depths of the helicarrier, looking for classified equipment.

His earlier stalking of the ship – while trying to observe and protect Misty – had at least given him a thorough grasp of the size and layout. He headed now for a section between the Engineering and Tactical areas – a cavernous storage area that he’d seen several agents carrying crates into. Those crates had been sufficiently banged up that Steve suspected they were rescued from the imploded research facility… the one where the Tesseract had been stolen from.

He didn’t find what he was looking for on his first pass through the warehouse-sized area. He wasn’t sure exactly what it was he was looking for… just that he hadn’t found it. Frustrated, Steve slipped out of the storage area and returned to somewhere less shadowy – less dangerous.

There were quarters and barracks on one of the middle decks. Steve hadn’t made use of them beyond freshening up, but he knew others had – and he’d hoped to find Misty there now. He needed a dose of her cheer. At that hour, the corridor was nearly empty.

She was just coming out of one of the senior agent rooms, her ponytail now in precise order and her uniform clean. Steve felt something uncurl when he caught sight of her. “Misty.” He stepped closer.

“Hey, Steve.” She held out a hand, completely unconcerned about who might observe them together. Misty didn’t care, not one whit. Maria was the only person whose opinion about her touching Steve mattered, and Maria was fine with it… therefore there was no reason to restrict herself – not when he obviously needed her.

Steve pulled her into him, exhaling as she fitted against his chest and tucked her head under his chin. “You okay, doll?”

“I’m fine… but you’re wound tighter than a two-dollar watch.” She patted his shoulders were her arms had come up around him. “What’s wrong? Or… more wrong than it was last time I saw you?”

“Just exploring some suspicions.” He pressed his cheek against her hair. “Not liking what I find. I think Fury’s lying to us about what SHIELD plans to do with the Tesseract.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Misty pulled back enough to look up at him and meet his eyes. “I don’t know that he could resist the temptation to recreate those Hydra weapons you talked about.”

He sighed. “You’re supposed to be reassurin’ me, doll.”

“Not at the risk of lying to you.” She stepped back, reaching up to pat his cheek. “Have you talked to the others?”

“Not yet.” He reached out to smooth her hair where it had ruffled against his uniform. “Have you talked to whoever you need to get permission from, to tell me what’s going on with Agent Barton?”

“No.” She closed her eyes briefly. “It’s… complicated.”

Steve chuckled. “Now I’m the one unsurprised.” Reluctantly he dropped his hand. “Did you get some shut-eye at least?”

“A little.” She yawned. “Not enough, clearly.”

“Can you lay back down?” He kept his voice low, just in case. “You need your rest, doll.” His eyes flickered down to her abdomen.

Misty smiled. “You’re cute when you’re worrying about me. I’ll grab a bit more once my partner frees up. Just don’t tell anyone I’m not bunking alone, alright?”

“Your secrets are safe with me.” Steve returned her smile, reaching out one last time to flick the end of her ponytail. She turned and walked down the hallway towards the Tactical section, and Steve turned the other direction.

He wasn’t alone.

“So,” Tony drawled, looking sideways at Steve. “You and the pretty little blonde SHIELD agent, huh?” He was leaning against the wall of the corridor, his eyes on the point where Misty had gone out of sight.

Steve bristled. He didn’t like Tony’s eyes on her – didn’t like the searching look pinned on himself, either. He shifted his attention fully onto Howard’s son. “What? Misty? No!” He shook his head, feeling almost nauseous at the very thought. “She’s a swell dame and all, but – she ain’t for me.”

“You looked pretty friendly with her.” Tony pushed off the wall and strolled towards him. 

“She’s my friend!” Steve protested. “I realize friendship is a foreign concept to you, but it matters to me.”

Tony recoiled like he’d been struck a physical blow. Steve didn’t notice as he pivoted on his heel and strode in the direction Misty had gone.

And ran into her – bodily – just around the corner.

“Out of line, Steven Grant Rogers,” Misty snapped, reaching up to swat the back of his head.

“Hey!” He ducked out of reach. “How can you have a Ma voice when you ain’t even—”

She swatted him again, then dragged him out of the corridor and into an empty closet. “That was my squad leader voice, and I’ve had it for more than a year.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “If you full name your squad, it’s no wonder they obey you.”

“Don’t change the subject. You can’t talk to him like that, Steve.” Misty crossed her arms and looked up at him. “No matter how annoying Stark is – and yes, I’m aware how annoying he can be – you still have to work with him.” He started to protest, and she cut him off with a sharp shake of her head. “No. You don’t get to pick and choose here. Bruce, Natasha, Thor, Tony. That’s your team, Steve. Come hell or high water, those are the people you’ve got to work with. Stark’s the only one you’re bucking against, so what gives?”

“He’s just… so…”

Misty waited.

“… modern?”

“You’re an idiot,” she sighed, not without affection. “Steve, he’s an inventor. A futurist. That’s who and what he is – and it’s a large part of why the world is the way it is. You need that on your team – just like I need it on mine. I have Angie,” she continued. “You haven’t met her yet – you will – but she’s a little junior version of Stark. Smart as a whip, sarcastic, brilliant – and damaged.” Her tone gentled, and she lifted a hand to run her fingers through his hair. “Remember how we talked about not comparing the present with the past?” He nodded. “You need to not do that with people, too. You’re comparing him against a standard that he can never meet – against somebody that exists in your memory, and not in his.”

Steve wanted to argue that he wasn’t comparing Tony to Howard, but it would be a lie… and he didn’t want to lie to Misty. “I’ll try.”

She smiled. “Good man.” But as he walked away, Misty had to wonder. Steve wasn’t, by nature, a cruel man – and what he’d said to Tony bordered on cruel. Probably crossed the border into outright torment, really – Misty knew from Phil and Natasha that Tony had few friends. What was causing Steve to act out of character, then? He’d seemed fine when he first arrived on the ship. She ran back through the hours since then – too many hours, not enough sleep – and frowned. Her recollection suggested Steve’s behavior had changed when they’d brought Loki on board… but Misty didn’t know why. She filed it away and resolved to tell either Natasha or Phil as soon as she saw them.

~ * ~

Catriona knew it was a risk, to walk onto the bridge – but she felt it was necessary. She was still clad in a borrowed SHIELD uniform, though at least one somewhat closer to her size had been located. With her riotous curls ruthlessly tamed, she looked almost unremarkable… save that she was a good six inches shorter than the other agents she encountered.

The reason for her risking exposure was standing at a computer monitor with Phil, looking down at a photo. “As soon as Loki took Doctor Selvig,” Phil explained, “we moved Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis. There’s an excellent observatory in Tromso. She was asked to consult there very suddenly yesterday.” He smiled a little. “Handsome fee, private plane… very remote. They’ll be safe.”

“Thank you,” Thor said quietly.

Catriona stepped closer and laid one delicate hand on Thor’s forearm. “They are also under the care of Sir Ronan Kerr, your Highness.” Thor looked down at her uncomprehending. A smile grew on her face when she realized he did not recognize her.

“Don’t tease him, little one,” Phil chided. “He’s having a rough day too.”

“My apologies.” Catriona inclined her head at Phil with a smirk. “I should have visited your mother more often, Prince Thor, if you cannot recognize me outside my robe.”

“Lady Catriona?” he squeaked.

It was utterly adorable. She hadn’t heard him make that particular noise since he was a boy. “Tis I, yes.” Her hand patted his arm. “Did you think that your brother could meddle in Gaia’s affairs and not draw the attention of Her Druids?”

“I… confess I did not give it much thought, your Reverence.” Thor bowed his head deeply to her. “It is well to see you.” His eyes flickered to Phil. “Why does he speak so casually to you, your Reverence?”

Catriona chuckled. “He is my taoiseach – my clanchief. You will find that all members of clan An Teaglach Tofa speak thusly.”

Thor nodded slowly. “I see.” He covered her hand on his arm. “Have you found your beloved then, your Reverence?”

“Alas, I have yet to be accorded that honor.” Catriona’s eyes held the pain of waiting – pain older than the demigod standing beside her. “I find solace in my chosen deirfiuracha and dhearthaireacha – sisters and brothers.” 

“Your time will come,” Phil murmured. “Gaia has promised you – she told Clint within the decade, remember?” Catriona nodded.

Thor sought a safer subject, not wanting to further upset the High Priestess. “You said that Lady Jane and my lightning sister are under the care of the Ancient Astronomer?”

“Aye.” Catriona took a steadying breath before looking up (so far up, did Thor really have to be so tall?) at him. “Gaia has several of us attended to this task, your Highness. The Blue Bard has been providing us information as well… and of course, mine own contributions.”

“Which are many, varied, and deeply appreciated,” Phil told her with a smile. “I’m confident we can locate the Tesseract… and retrieve those who have been stolen from us.”

Thor nodded solemnly. “It is no accident, Loki taking Erik Selvig. I dread what he plans for him once he’s done.” His hand tightened on Catriona’s. “Erik is a good man.”

“I do not believe there was any random choice in Prince Loki’s selection of captives,” Catriona murmured. “Not for him to have taken a Warrior of Gaia as his first prey.”

The prince’s eyes widened. “The agent you have referenced, Agent Clint Barton? He is one of Gaia’s Chosen?”

Phil’s eyes met Catriona’s briefly – just to verify that she trusted Thor – before answering very quietly, “He is a Warrior of Gaia, and one of my achroi ghra. You have met our wife, Natasha – she is also a Warrior.”

“I divined such, in regards to Agent Romanoff. Her tie to the Goddess is apparent to me – but yours less so,” Thor said, tilting his head at Phil.

“I am not Chosen.” Phil’s smile was almost brittle, closer to his professional expression than anything he used with the clan.

“Fascinating.” Thor gazed at Phil longer than was polite. Catriona pinched his arm where her hand still rested, and Thor flinched back from it. “We shall find and recover your achroi ghra – and Erik Selvig.” And by the Goddess, Phil hoped there was more to that promise than arrogance.

“He talks about you a lot,” he said to change the subject – needing to speak of something other than his husband. “You changed his life. You changed everything around here.”

Thor shook his head, exhaling heavily. “They were better as they were.” He pulled away from Catriona to pace towards the windows. “We pretend on Asgard that we’re more advanced, but… we come here, battle like bilgesnipe—”

Phil blinked. “Like what?”

“Bilgesnipe?” The question interrupted the beginning of a brood – Phil could tell. Instead, Thor’s attention fixed on him. “You know, huge – scaly. Big antlers.” He mimed horns. “You don’t have those?”

Biting back a smile, Phil shook his head. “Don’t think so.” He exchanged a glance with Catriona, who was smiling as well. He could see a glimpse of the child she must have known – a young prince, far from home… eager to share knowledge with a new friend. 

“Well, they are repulsive,” Thor continued. The good humor faded from his face. “And they trample everything in their path.” He was looking out the windows – but his gaze was fixed on something much farther away than the earth’s surface. “When I first came to earth, Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price… and now again.” His voice dropped, almost too low to hear. “In my youth, I courted war.”

Phil and Catriona both startled to hear Fury speak. “War hasn’t started yet.” Catriona shrank back out of sight, managing to remain undetected by the Director. “You think you can make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?” Fury approached the spot where Thor and Phil were standing, but on a platform. It left the Director looming over the demigod.

“I do not know.” Thor shifted so that he was facing Fury, not comfortable with the position. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It is not just power he craves, it is vengeance… upon me.” Thor closed his eyes briefly, struggling with grief and guilt. “There is no pain that would prize his need from him.” 

“A lot of guys think that,” Fury drawled, “until the pain starts.”

“What are you asking me to do?” Thor demanded.

In a silky, almost enchanting voice, Fury answered, “I’m asking… what are you prepared to do?”

Phil’s instincts flared, and his attention latched laser-like onto the Director. Surely he wasn’t suggesting Thor torture his brother? The blue gleam in Fury’s exposed eye unnerved Phil in an already unnerving situation. If Thor had been a SHIELD agent – and one of Phil’s – he’d have immediately cited Section 74. Adopted or not – no one should be asked to interrogate a sibling… and definitely should not be pressed upon the issue by an overeager Director who, quite frankly, was asking more like a man trying to get laid than one who was trying to conduct an interrogation.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor stated, his nostrils flaring just a bit. There were conventions for the treatment of prisoners, both here and on Asgard – and the way the Director was speaking now… Thor wondered if they were to be upheld.

Fury raised one eyebrow. “Then why do I feel like he’s the only person on this boat that wants to be here?”

He waited – dramatically – for an answer and upon not receiving one, spun away in a swirl of black leather and left the bridge.

Thor’s eyes fell on Catriona where she had tucked herself out of sight. “Your Reverence – do you trust that man? That… Director Fury?”

“I do not.” Catriona drew herself up, red hair gleaming under the bridge lights. “I apologize, treorai – I do not like to speak ill of your commanding officer in your presence, but…”

“No, go ahead,” Phil sighed. “You probably won’t be saying anything I’m not thinking.”

Catriona drew closer and lowered her voice. “Be wary of trusting him, your Highness. He has not our best interests in mind.”

Phil half expected Thor to bristle – to argue that he could not take Catriona’s word at face value then either.

“It shall be as you say, your Reverence.” Thor bowed his upper body towards Catriona. “I shall commend myself to your authority then – in deference to your Goddess, and in honor of the friendship you share with my Queen Mother.”

Feather-light, Catriona pressed two fingers to Thor’s bowed forehead. “I accept your service, Prince Thor. I ask that you report to my taoiseach, Treorai Phil, for the duration of this conflict. He is a noble clanchief, and most able to marshal our forces.”

Phil started in surprise but stepped forward when she gestured peremptorily for him. She took his hand in her free one and guided it to Thor’s head. “You honor me with your trust,” Phil murmured – not entirely certain why those words needed to be spoken.

They were the right ones, though – Thor smiled and straightened up, his entire visage lightened now. “The honor is mine.”

~ * ~


	9. Chapter 9

Natasha threw her dirty uniform off herself with a snarl, watching it hit the far wall of Maria’s quarters and fall to the floor. For good measure, Natasha kicked at it as well, before retreating to the en suite bathroom. It wasn’t much – claustrophobic shower stall, miniscule toilet, tiny sink, narrow mirror. It was more privacy than the barracks had, though. 

She’d rather have been in her husband’s quarters – preferably with said husband – but Phil had already sent Chuck and Sam to them to lie down, and she didn’t want to disturb the fledglings. (Other than poking her head in the door to take a quick photo, because seeing her two toughest Scoobies curled up together like puppies was balm on her soul.)

Yanking a brush through her hair didn’t do much to neaten her appearance, but the quick, sharp pain shocked her out of her head. Hand trembling, she set the brush down on the edge of the sink and leaned over the counter. She could do this. She had to do this, to interrogate the prisoner and find out where the Tesseract was… where Selvig was.

Where Clint was.

Failure wasn’t an option. Which meant she needed to pull herself together. It would take everything she had for The Black Widow to outwit Loki (Odinson? Laufeyson? Silvertongue?), the Father of Lies. 

“You might have more luck if you stopped trying to bottle yourself up.”

Natasha whirled, banging her elbow against the wall. Her hand went to a knife – or where one would be, if she weren’t standing in her underwear. “What—”

Maria smiled a little from the doorway. She had locked the door to her quarters behind her and was now leaning against the closed door, a clean uniform in her hands. “Brought your spare catsuit. Didn’t see you grab it before you came in here.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s bad manners to walk in on someone else’s wife naked,” Natasha drawled, pressing one hand to her chest to still her heart. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been startled like that.

“You’re not entirely naked.” Maria’s lips twitched. “Besides, I live with Misty. She walks around in her underwear all the time… I’m used to it.”

“She’s your – whatever you call her.” Natasha turned back to the mirror and picked up the brush again. “You’re supposed to be used to that.”

“She does it around everybody.” Maria approached slowly, holding her hand out for the brush. “You know that. You’ve seen her do it… I think she likes the colors the Scoobies turn when she wanders around without her shirt.”

Natasha relinquished the brush, her shoulders slumping forward. “Chuck can get pretty purple.” She watched her friend and clanmate patiently run the brush through the straight red strands – methodic, even strokes. Enough pressure to be effective, but not to pull.

Just as carefully as Clint and Phil, when her husbands tended to her hair.

Maria didn’t miss a beat when Natasha started to cry. She laid the brush aside and wrapped her arms around Natasha, tugging and guiding until she could cradle that red hair against her shoulder. “Shhh,” Maria soothed, rubbing her hands up and down Natasha’s arms. “It’s okay, Nat. It’s going to be okay.” It couldn’t be the same as when Phil or Clint held Natasha, and Maria was aware that she was a poor substitute – but she was here, and by damned was she going to let her friend (sister?) cry alone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Natasha whispered into Maria’s neck. “When I go into an interrogation, I always know that I’m going to get what I need. I don’t… have that certainty here.” 

“I do.” Maria patted Natasha’s back, a little awkwardly. She knew how to comfort Misty – this was different. “You don’t have to have the certainty, Nat – I’ve got it for you. Me, and Misty, and the rest of the Scoobies.”

Natasha let out a sound that was part laugh, part sob. “I can’t fail here. I… I can’t, Ria. If I do… if I can’t get what we need to find Clint… I lose them both.”

“Bullshit.” Maria shifted away from Natasha so that she could put her hands on the redhead’s shoulders and shook her once. “That’s crap, Nat. Complete and utter crap. Burnt crap on toast. First, you won’t fail. Second – if for some reason the information you get from the bastard doesn’t help us find Clint, we’ll find him another way. And third – for fuck’s sake, Natasha. You aren’t losing Phil, no matter what happens.”

“But—” Watery eyes met hers, and Maria shook her head.

There was a time for tender reassurances, and there was a time for tough love. And thank the Goddess, Maria could do the second. “Romanoff, there is not an agent in this organization who believes that Phil Coulson would ever walk willingly away from you. Not one.” Maria shook Natasha again by the shoulders to emphasize her point. “It’s even odds whether any of them believe death would stop him, and they don’t even know you’re married. Nat, if the smartest agents in the world know that Phil won’t leave you – why would you doubt that?”

“But—”

“And another thing! Even above whatever craptastic reasons you’re trying to come up with now,” Maria continued doggedly, “there’s Gaia to think of. Do you really think She would stand for it, if Her favorite Warrior got abandoned? She’d give Phil a talking-to worse than anything Mama Diane could deliver. So.” Maria let her hands soften and pulled Natasha back into a hug. “You aren’t going to lose either of them, got it? You’re going to get dressed, and let me finish brushing your hair. You go Parselmouth parley with the snake in his cage, and then we’ll go get your absent husband. You got me?”

Natasha nodded and sniffled. “You threw in that Harry Potter reference just to make me feel better, didn’t you?”

“Did it work?”

The Black Widow stretched on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the middle of Maria’s forehead. “Yes it did.” 

Getting dressed – buckling on her weapons, perfecting her femme fatale appearance – helped too. By the time she walked into what Fury was calling detention and Natasha was calling the fishbowl, she was the embodiment of her training and callsign.

“There’s not many people that can sneak up on me, Agent Romanoff,” Loki purred when he realized she was there.

Natasha indulged in a small smile. “But you figured I’d come.” She prowled closer to the cage, her mind whirring. She hadn’t introduced herself – and she doubted very much that Fury had done so. He must know of her from Clint’s mind, then. How much did he know? 

“After,” Loki admitted. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct – amateur as they may be – you would appear as a friend.” He sneered. “As a balm. And I would… cooperate.”

She raised one eyebrow in perfect interrogatory. “Would you?” She let that lie and continued silkily, “I want to know what you’ve done to Agent Barton.”

“I’d say I’ve… expanded his mind.” The demigod’s eyes never left hers – he barely even seemed to blink. 

Natasha let her eyes flicker away for a fraction of a second, letting him see her discomfort. “And once you’ve won… once you’re king of the mountain. What happens to his mind?”

A dangerous smile teased at the edges of Loki’s expression. “Is this… love, Agent Romanoff?” Now his eyes flickered as well – to her wedding ring. Eyes that were allegedly supposed to be bottle green like Harry Potter and instead… instead were the same damned shade of blue as the Tesseract, as the glints in Fury’s eyes – as the surveillance photos of Clint’s eyes.

Natasha had never loathed a color before.

“Love is for children,” she heard herself say – the Black Widow continuing the mission, even when the wife wanted to fret. “I owe him a debt.”

“Do tell,” Loki invited, making a production of sitting on the bunk inside the cage. “The tale of how an accomplished – fighter – such as yourself would be indebted to a – rogue – such as he must be… riveting.” He spread his hands theatrically. “Tell me.”

His hesitation to refer to her as a fighter – and so carefully not using the word ‘warrior’ to describe either herself or Clint – was another clue. He knew about their Gaia bonds, then. They’d suspected as much, but this was further confirmation. Natasha found a chair that was so conveniently placed nearby and draped herself over it. “Before I worked for SHIELD, I…” she paused. “Well, I made a name for myself.” Her lips twitched, though she didn’t let it form into either a smile or a scowl. “I have a very specific skillset. I didn’t care who I used it for… or on.” She allowed the memory of those days – of operating without feeling – to show in her eyes, and was pleased to see it register in his own. “I got on SHIELD’s radar in a bad way. Agent Barton was sent to kill me.” Her lips curved. “He made a different call.”

“And what will you – and the one you answer to – do, if I vow to spare him?”

“Not let you out,” Natasha countered immediately.

His smile broadened. “Oh, no. But I like this.” He leaned forward, eyes never leaving hers. “Your world in the balance, and you bargain for one man?”

Her instinctive response – the one she dared not speak – was that Clint was her world, or at least half of it. That would not do. That would be breaking the terms of engagement of this little parlay… terms that were unspoken and governed the unspeakable. “Regimes fall every day,” she shrugged. “I tend not to weep over that. I’m Russian… or I was.”

“And what are you now?”

Nationality mattered little to her – it never had. Her allegiance to SHIELD was presumably as an American institution, but it wasn’t just SHIELD she served. Gaia did not limit Herself to one country – neither would Natasha. But above that question, of whether she was Russian or American or something else – she was a Warrior. She served her Goddess with absolute devotion, because serving Gaia had given her everything she’d ever wanted.

But she couldn’t say that, either. “It’s really not that complicated.” Natasha leaned back in her chair. “I’ve got red in my ledger, and I’d like to wipe it out.”

Blue eyes brightened, and Natasha tensed. “Can you?” he murmured. “Can you wipe out that much red? Drakov’s daughter? Sao Paulo? The hospital fire?” They hit her like body blows. “Barton told me everything. Your ledger is dripping – it’s gushing red, and you think saving a warrior no more virtuous than yourself will change anything?” He jerked his head. “This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer… pathetic.” Though whether he was condemning the child or the deity to which prayers were addressed was unclear. “You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers.” He’d risen now, and was slithering towards her like the snake Maria had named him. “You pretend to be separate, to have your own code… something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you now, and they will never go away.” His eyes flashed and he leaned closer to her. “I won’t touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear. And then he’ll wake just long enough to see his good work – and when he screams, I’ll split his skull.” His fist hit the glass, making her jump. “This is my bargain, you mewling quim!”

She’d turned, almost cowering. “You’re a monster,” Natasha whispered.

Loki stepped back, wiping spittle from his mouth. “Oh, no.” He laughed. “You brought the monster.”

“So. Banner… that’s your play.” She straightened up, no trace of her distress in her body language or eyes. 

“What?” Loki’s brows drew together – and then he smiled. For just a moment – not even that, half a moment – Natasha saw something else in those eyes, something… green. Humor and respect and even farther beneath that… fear.

She shoved it all away. “Loki means to unleash the Hulk,” she barked into her comm. “Keep Banner in the lab, I’m on my way. Send Thor as well.” Then she turned once more to Loki and inclined her head regally. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

A surveillance still of the astonished look on his face would be one of her Christmas gifts that year.

~ * ~

Phil acknowledged Natasha’s intel with professional calm – as it was an open line – and turned to Thor. “You’re needed in the lab.”

The blond demigod raised on eyebrow. He was obviously curious, but he did not hesitate to follow Phil. “What madness has my brother wrought from his cell?”

“I don’t think it was new madness – just new to us.” Agents moved out of their way without Phil having to ask. “Have you seen video of the Hulk in action? Do you think you could subdue him?”

A second eyebrow joined the first. “I have been shown the gamma scientist’s otherself, yes. I do not know if I am a match for him – it is not seemly to contemplate having to overpower a comrade. Do you think it will be necessary, Chief Coulson?”

“Agent,” Phil corrected. “Not chief, not here.” He paused at an intersection and looked Thor fully in the face. “You’re right. It isn’t seemly – but in this case, it’s critical. Bruce’s otherself, as you call it – he has the power to destroy this whole ship and everyone on it. If your brother has found a way to affect the Hulk, it would be a very grave situation.”

“Is Banner not in control?” Thor asked quietly. “What I have seen of him, he seems… I do not see the ravening beast that my brother claims.”

“Nor do I – but I’m afraid what will happen if Loki can make him like that.” Phil reached out and clasped a hand on Thor’s shoulder. “You’re the only one I think has a chance of containing him without hurting yourself, Hulk, or anyone else. Steve might be a match for him, but I don’t know if he can be ruthless enough to fight a teammate, not like this. I can’t be sure Tony’s armor would withstand a blow from the Hulk… and I am not sending my wife in after him – I can’t. That leaves you.” He squeezed his fingers on Thor’s shoulder. “You have more battle experience than anyone else on this ship – and you’ve fought with companions – Lady Sif and the Warriors Three that were in New Mexico, yeah? – long enough that I know you value teamwork. I trust you to do what’s necessary to stop him without irrevocable damage.”

Thor nodded respectfully. “I shall do as you wish, Ch—Agent Coulson.”

~ * ~

In the wake of JARVIS’s completion of the hack on SHIELD files, Bruce and Tony had abandoned work on the scepter, and were now poring over very interesting – and very disturbing – data. The scepter rested on a back counter as Tony copied everything to an external, encrypted server – and sent a second copy even farther afield, to a server farm out of the country that not even Pepper knew he had. 

Bruce was poring over data on SHIELD’s extensive Tesseract research – not just what Selvig had been doing, but projects from decades past as well. It was fascinating and terrifying in almost equal measure.

Tony left him to it – because his mind was wholly consumed by different files. 

Fury walked in to see neither of his brightest minds working on the scepter, and he wasn’t pleased. “What are you doing, Mister Stark?” he barked. It had to be Stark that was the cause of it, after all – Banner was entirely benign in this form.

Flicking away the other matter, Tony pursed his lips at Fury. “Uh… kind of been wondering the same thing about you.”

The Director’s jaw flexed. “You’re supposed to be locating the Tesseract.”

“We are,” Bruce answered calmly. “The model’s locked and we’re sweeping for the signature now.” He gestured at a computer monitor. “When we get a hit, we’ll have a location with half a mile.”

“You’ll get your cube back… no muss, no fuss,” Tony said, before calling open the files Bruce had been reading. “What is Phase Two?”

Steve strode in and dropped a weapon on the table between Fury and Tony. “Phase Two is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons.” His eyes flickered to Tony and for a moment there was respect there – that Tony had found the same answer from a different path. “Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow for me.”

“Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract,” Fury tried to explain. “This does not mean that we’re—”

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Tony sang, spinning the computer monitor around to show Fury. It was filled with Phase Two prototypes… weapons designed after Hydra guns, to utilize the Tesseract. “What were you lying?”

“I was wrong, Director,” Steve said quietly. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.”

Natasha came into the lab with Thor hot on her heels. Her eyes were fixed on Bruce. 

“Did you know about this?” Bruce demanded of Natasha, jabbing a finger at the screen displaying the Phase Two weaponry.

Natasha hadn’t – but she couldn’t think about that right now. “You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?”

“I was in Calcutta,” Bruce snapped. “I was pretty well removed.”

She eyed the gamma scientist carefully. His iron control was slipping, and she didn’t think it was just frustration or betrayal over a secret SHIELD project. Something more was going on here… something that could modify behavior. “Loki’s manipulating you.” That was the only explanation that made sense – how Loki would think he could wield the Hulk as a weapon against them. He had some way of disrupting the Doctor’s vaunted calm.

“And you’ve been doing what, exactly?”

Fair point. From the perspective of a cynical scientist, Natasha supposed that even confessing her relationship to Clint and Phil could be considered emotional manipulation… although that hadn’t been why she’d told him. “You didn’t come here because I bat my eyelashes at you.” Though she still didn’t understand why he’d agreed to help them at all. It hadn’t been her feminine wiles, and she hadn’t told him about Clint yet then. Had it been just the severity of the cause, the need to find the Tesseract?

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy.” He pointed at the screen again, this time with his eyes on Fury. “I’d like to know why SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

A beat of silence before Fury’s hand shot out and pointed at Thor. “Because of him.”

“Me?” Thor recoiled from the pointed finger.

“Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town.” Fury’s eyes fixed on Thor accusingly. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly – hilariously! – outgunned.”

Thor shook his head, bemused. “My people want nothing but peace with your planet.”

“But you’re not the only people out there, are you?” Fury continued. “And… you’re not the only threat.” He paused, sweeping his eyes over the room. “The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched – that can’t be controlled.”

“Like you controlled the cube?” Steve asked, one eyebrow going up.

“Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies,” Thor objected. Bruce wasn’t sure he agreed. SHIELD files showed decades of research… why would it only now become an issue? “It is a signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war.”

Steve scoffed. “A higher form?” There was no higher form of war – it was an endless cycle of waste.

“You forced our hand!” Fury’s eye blazed at Thor. “We had to come up with something.”

“Nuclear deterrent,” Tony rolled his eyes. “’Cause that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?”

Steve’s lip curled. “I’m sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep—”

“Wait, wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?”

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?”

Thor shook his head. “I thought humans were more evolved than this.”

“Excuse me,” Fury growled, “did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

“Do you always give your champions such mistrust?” Thor countered.

“Are you all really that naive?” Natasha sighed. “SHIELD monitors potential threats.”

“Captain America is on a watch list?” Bruce asked incredulously.

Tony rolled his eyes in Steve’s direction. “You’re on that list? Are you above or below angry bees?”

“I swear to God, Stark, one more crack—”

“Threatening! I feel threatened!”

Thor swayed slightly on his feet, unaware that he was leaning towards the scepter at the rear of the lab. “You speak of control, yet you court chaos.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “That’s his MO, isn’t it?” he gestured at Fury. “I mean, what are we, a team? No. No, no.” He shook his head. “We’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re – we’re a time bomb.”

“You need to step away,” Fury ordered.

Tony clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?”

Steve slapped his hand away. “You know damned well why not. Back off!” 

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” Tony murmured, stepping to face Steve fully. His chin came up belligerently. 

“Yeah?” Steve’s jaw flexed. “Big man in a suit of armor. That that off, what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” Natasha reluctantly had to agree.

Steve’s jaw tensed again. “I know guys with none of that worth ten of you.” His voice was low and sharp. “I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself.” He leaned in. “You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

Though it stung – more than that, it cut deeply – Tony didn’t let it show on his face. “I think I would just cut the wire.”

“Always a way out,” he answered, deceptively calm. “You know, you may not be a threat – but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

Tony’s eyes flashed dangerously. “A hero? Like you?” He stepped closer to Steve until their chests were nearly touching. “You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

“Put on the suit,” Steve challenged. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Thor’s laugh boomed out. “You people are so petty… and tiny.” Tony rubbed his forehead, glowering at Steve. 

“Yeah,” Bruce sneered. “This is a team—”

“Agent Romanoff, would you escort Doctor Banner back to his – ”

Bruce snorted at Fury. “Where? You rented my room.”

“The cell was just in case – ”

“In case you needed to kill me,” Bruce bit out, “but you can’t. I know! I tried!” Steve felt the words hit in his gut, and Tony looked stricken. “I got low,” Bruce continued more softly. “I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth – and the other guy spit it out. So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good – until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk.” Bruce’s eyes landed on Natasha. “You want to know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You want to know how I stay calm?” Natasha had her hand on her sidearm, the safety strap of the holster disengaged. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fury in a similar position.

“Doctor Banner.” Steve was forcing himself to stay calm – to stay level. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down at his hand and found – yes, he was holding the scepter. How did that…

A computer alarm interrupted. “Got it!” Tony said.

“Sorry, kids. You don’t get to see my party trick after all.” Bruce abandoned the scepter and walked to the monitor.

“You have located the Tesseract?” Thor asked.

Tony rubbed his forehead. “I can get there faster.”

“Look, all of us—” Steve began.

Thor shook his head. “The Tesseract belongs on Asgard, no human is a match for it.”

Steve caught Tony’s shoulder as the smaller man turned to leave. “You’re not going alone!” Beneath his sharp words, there was genuine concern – growing concern.

“You gonna stop me?” Tony asked in a suspiciously soft voice.

Unable to resist a challenge, Steve cocked one eyebrow. “Put on the suit, let’s find out.”

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man.” Tony twisted to get out of Steve’s grip.

“Put on the suit,” Steve repeated, refusing to release Tony.

Bruce’s eyes went very wide at the monitor. “Oh my God.”

And with the timing of a capricious demigod, it was that moment at which an explosion rocked the helicarrier – severely damaging one engine and bucking the craft like a paper sailboat in a breeze. Natasha and Bruce had been standing near one of the glass windows and were knocked through it and onto a lower engineering level. Thor and Fury hit one wall of the lab, while Steve managed to keep himself and Tony mostly on their feet. 

“Put on the suit!” Steve said to Tony – this time with no malice, only the ring of genuine tactical command.

“Yep!”

~ * ~


	10. Chapter 10

It didn’t take a tactical genius to connect the dots – a shuttle with a sketchy cargo manifest, failure to complete proper docking procedures… and then a big ass explosion.

The ‘boom’ was kind of a clue that shit was going down.

Maria tried to cling to the console on the bridge but wound up flung all to hell anyway. She banged into Lance, clung briefly, and righted herself. “Son of a bitch,” she groaned under her breath. But she couldn’t allow herself to feel – not in the middle of a crisis. “Bridge crew, report.” Lance gestured at his screen, and she leaned close to read it. Fury’s voice came over the comms demanding an update, and Maria tapped her earpiece to switch to a general frequency. “Number three engine is down,” she announced.

“Turbine’s loose,” Lance reported. “It’s mostly intact, but it’s impossible to get out there and make repairs while we’re in the air.”

“If we lose one more engine, we won’t be,” Maria said, feeling her gut clench. “Somebody’s got to get inside and patch that engine.”

“Mister Stark,” Phil’s voice came over the comm – a wash of cool competency that rippled through the entire bridge crew. “I believe that’s your cue.”

“On it, Agent,” Tony promised. “Try and keep the ship steady for me.”

Lance blew out a breath. “We’ll do our best.” Maria clapped a reassuring hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

“Coulson!” Fury barked. “Initiate defensive lock down in the detention center, and then get to the armory. Move out!”

Phil’s voice remained steady as he navigated the warren of passageways between the bridge and the armory. “I’ve already activated those protocols, Director.” Then he switched to the private Scooby channel that they weren’t supposed to have. “Scoobies, sound off. I know Lancelot is on the bridge with Maria – Buffy?” It surprised absolutely no one that she was the first one Phil asked after.

There was a long beat where everyone waited for her speak up. “I’m… I’m okay, sensei,” Misty said finally, very softly.

Dread gripped Phil, halting him in the middle of the corridor. He ignored the startled agents nearby. “Where the hell are you? Are you injured? Do you need—”

“I’m okay. I’m not injured. I’m… well, I’m hiding.”

“Buffy—”

It was hard to tell just who had spoken, and Misty thought it was probably several of her teammates at once. “I’m still in one of the tactical rooms, but I’m under a table at the rear, and I’m not planning on leaving. I know it’s cowardly, but—”

“Prudent, not cowardly. I’ll think better knowing you’re out of the chaos,” Phil murmured. “I don’t think I’m the only one. If you decide to move sectors, let one of us know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Phil drew in a deep breath before continuing. He wanted to say more – wanted to go check on Misty himself, and doubted he was the only one. “Chuckles?”

“Reporting in from engineering,” Chuck announced. “Shit’s banged up. If Stark’s going out to do repairs, I’m hanging here in case he needs something.”

“Doc? You still in medical with the pixie?”

There was a low cough from Raj. “Yes, sir. We’re fine – prepping for incoming.”

“Angeleyes?”

“Angie here.” Her voice was a little hushed. “I’m in the labs… I think. Got thrown around a bit. So did Bruce – Doctor Banner. Nat’s with him, he looks… dicey.”

“Keep your distance,” Phil ordered. “Nat can handle him.” But he made a note to locate Thor and send the demigod in his wife’s direction. “Pick your poison – you want to head to the bridge with Lancelot and Marigold, or engineering with Chuckles?”

Angie hummed. “I’ll head for Chuck. If Stark needs something, I might be able to help.”

“Alley Cat, Samwise. If you’re still in the armory, I’m headed your direction.”

“We are still here,” Al agreed. “Entrance on the main level is blocked by fallen crates – suggest using the A6 door. Sam and I are trying to shift enough to open it up.”

“Fucking Phase Two bullshit,” Sam grumbled, audibly straining to haul crates.

Phil reached an intersection and had to identify himself and show his badge before proceeding. He approved of their caution, even if it was mildly inconvenient. “Siege?”

“I’m headed towards you, Chief,” CJ answered immediately. “Tactical doesn’t exactly need my eyes on intel while we’re actively in combat.” And if he didn’t lay said eyes on his chief in the next five minutes, he was going to have a massive meltdown. 

Phil badged his way into the A6 entrance, finding it only partially open. “I’m switching off the Scooby channel for now,” he told his team. “Stay alert.” He paused with his hand on his comm. “Be safe, my fledglings.” 

Misty didn’t think she was the only one who heard it as ‘I love you.’

~ * ~

Tony sent Steve to find an interior access point to engine three while he got into the Mark VII. His mind was already spinning with data and suppositions and possibilities. As soon as the helmet closed, he and JARVIS began to confer in rapid shorthand as to the best way to handle the repairs. He was already in the air by the time he heard Steve speak.

“Stark, I’m here!” Steve leaned out over the edge of the destroyed section. He didn’t care much for heights, but didn’t feel undue fear here. Without understanding why, Steve trusted that if he fell – Iron Man would catch him. Given that he’d nearly come to blows with the man a few short minutes ago, Steve was a little surprised at the realization.

“Good. Let’s see what we’ve got.” Tony and JARVIS began scanning the damaged engine. “I gotta get the super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors and work on dislodging the debris.” He tried to manhandle a locked rotor, then turned to point at Steve. “I need you to get to that,” he gestured again, “engine control panel and tell me what relays are in an overload position.”

Steve barely resisted the urge to salute. Stark might be an asshole – but right now, he was unquestionably the man in charge. Steve made his way to the indicated panel – having to resort to some flashy but effective acrobatics to do it – and stared down at the open panel.

“What’s it look like in there?” Tony asked when he saw Steve had accessed it.

Utterly at a loss, Steve blurted out the first observation he was confident in. “It appears to run on some form of electricity.”

There was a stifled snort of disbelief. “Well, you’re not wrong.” And as unhelpful as the observation was, it was refreshing that Rogers hadn’t tried to bullshit his way into pretending he knew what was up. Patiently – more patiently than most people would have expected – Tony explained how to check the various relays, what to look for and what to do. Rogers was a good student, Tony reflected as he blasted debris out of the turbine with his repulsors. His willingness to listen to Tony – and utter lack of argument – bumped him up a notch in Tony’s estimation.

“The relays are intact,” Steve said after completing his inspection. He slid them back into the compartment. “What’s our next move?”

Good question, and one Tony didn’t like the answer to. “Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won’t reengage without a jump.” He blasted another chunk of shredded metal out of the way. “I’m gonna hafta get in there and push.”

“If that thing gets up to speed, you’ll get shredded!” Steve was horrified – and reluctantly impressed. He’d taunted Stark about not being the kind to lay on the grenade… and yet he was proposing flying into a turbine and jumpstarting it. That wasn’t at all what Steve expected – and yet…

“Then stay by that control unit and reverse the polarity long enough to disengage mag—”

“Speak English!”

Tony huffed in amusement before answering. “See that red lever? It’ll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it, wait for my word.”

Steve knew how to do that – but it didn’t stay that simple. While he watched Iron Man remove jagged bits from the turbine, a slew of men dressed in SHIELD uniforms appeared in the passageway… but it became clear pretty quickly that these weren’t friendlies. Generally speaking, allies didn’t throw grenades and fire machine guns at him. He dispatched a few via hand-to-hand combat – including ejecting one off the side of the ship – before he freed a gun from one and began wielding it as well. 

“Stark! We’re losing altitude!” Fury barked into the comm.

“Yeah. Noticed.” Bracing himself against the rotors, Tony took a deep breath and started to accelerate. 

One of the attackers caught Steve unprepared, knocking him to the deck and nearly off the edge. He snagged a dangling cable, cursing under his breath. As he dangled, the rotors picked up speed. The helicarrier began to level out as Iron Man let out a grunt of effort.

“Cap, I need the lever!” Tony called.

“I need a minute here!” Steve shot back, struggling to get back to the deck.

Unable to see what sort of situation Rogers was in, Tony’s mind jumped to the worst. Not that Rogers was incapacitated… but that he didn’t see the severity of the situation, or thought Tony was joking. “Lever! Now!” Tony grit out. Unfortunately – the rotors took that moment to fully engage, and Tony was caught in them. “Uh-oh.” It was so inane of an outburst that Tony could only hope it wasn’t his last words. If his last words wound up being a childish exclamation, he was going to be fucking pissed.

Steve managed to get back on deck and reached for the lever. As he pulled it, a chewed-up Iron Man dropped out of the rotors. Steve wanted to exclaim – try to help him somehow – but another hostile made his presence known and Steve had to deal with that jackass first – or try to.

Tony caught himself on malfunctioning repulsors and shot towards the asshole shooting at Captain America. He bowled the man over, not caring whether he killed him… just that he stop shooting.

He did.

Exhausted and in need of repair, Tony flopped onto the deck on his back. Steve blew out a sigh of relief – but they couldn’t rest here long. Not with hostiles still on board.

~ * ~

Natasha and Bruce hit the metal grating of the engineering level hard when the explosion went off, blasted through the glass wall of the lab. She vaguely registered Angie nearby, probably blown off the lab level as well. She knew Chuck had been working on an engineering level, though she wasn’t sure if it was the one she was on now – but none of that was critical information.

No – right now, the only vital data was that Bruce was gripping the metal grating and breathing hard, his eyes glowing an eerie luminescent green.

“I’m okay,” Natasha whispered into her comm, not sure who could hear her. Goddess, she hoped Phil could hear her. She shifted to speaking to Bruce. “We’re okay, right?”

They were not okay.

Bruce was struggling, visibly fighting to stay in control – and losing. His face and shoulders were rippling, making Natasha vaguely nauseous. “Doctor… Bruce, you’ve gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants,” she pleaded. “We’re gonna be okay, just listen to me.” She saw agents approaching and waved them away. The last thing they needed was more people crowding Bruce… or more collateral damage, if he was unable to prevent a shift. She wasn’t sure what Loki was using to force this but knew it had to be something. There were too many coincidences, too much behavior out of character… it wasn’t natural. “We’re gonna be okay. Right?” She wanted to touch him, wanted to physically reassure him and was surprised at the impulse. Outside her clan, Natasha didn’t do casual touch – but she wanted to touch him now. “I swear on my life – on my Goddess – that I will get you out of this mess, that you will walk away—”

“Your life?” It wasn’t the words that gave her pause – it was the mocking tone which delivered them. It sounded altogether too much like Loki for her peace of mind.

Another explosion rocked the carrier, and the lights flickered out – 

– leaving her bathed in the radiance of his eyes.

Eyes that, while she watched, changed. For one heartbeat, she could still see Bruce in them – could see him hear her gasp his name, desperate to reach him. But even as his body shifted and grew, she saw the humanity dribble away. It was replaced by a terrible animal hunger – one that was different from what she’d seen a year ago at Culver University.

This was the second time she’d come face-to-face with the Hulk, and could come to only one conclusion: this Hulk was not in his right mind. (That the Hulk had a right mind was incontrovertible, to her.)

Desperate now, Natasha yanked herself free of debris and fled. Her leg didn’t want to hold her, but she pushed past the pain. Hulk roared and began to chase her. 

It was a terrible game of cat and mouse, a parody of hide and seek. As she dodged and hid, Natasha was brought to mind forcefully of laser tag with her nieces and nephews – and the terrible realization at the time that she hadn’t been able to distinguish between fight and fun. She could now – and this was not fun. 

She pulled her sidearm, huddling out of sight and wishing she had any hope that a bullet would stop the Hulk. Well, if it wouldn’t affect him… better to change the surroundings. She fired into an exhaust pipe, startling him with a blast of pressurized steam. It gave her cover to escape down a corridor, but he was gaining ground on her more rapidly than she liked. Fear like she could barely remember raced through her as she ducked, trying to avoid being struck by the massive otherself. Just when she feared he’d kill her – 

– Thor burst into the corridor, and tackled Hulk into an aircraft bay.

Trembling from nose to toes, Natasha crept into a crevice of the corridor, and tried to calm her racing heart.

~ * ~

Mindful of Chief Coulson’s earlier words, Thor did not immediately attack with lethal force. This being – both Doctor Bruce Banner the gamma scientist and his otherself the Hulk – had Gaia’s favor. Whether that would manifest in a bond to the Goddess Thor did not know – but to be protected Her Warriors, and spoken for by Her High Priestess, meant that Thor would do all in his power to subdue without undue injury.

That would not prove easy. Hulk was a match for him – and in another time or place, such a bout might be enjoyable. He could not allow himself to sink into that battlemind now, though – either the fluidity of mortal combat or the peculiar relaxation of a well-matched sparring. He must be mindful at all times.

“We are not your enemies, Banner!” Thor managed to grit out while trying to avoid being crushed by one massive green fist. “Try to think!” He had no idea if he was getting through to the man – 

– though that seemed doubtful, given that Hulk promptly punched him sideways into a stack of crates.

Thor regained his feet, feeling a trickle of blood from a split lip. He dabbed at it as he considered his options. Very well. This unarmed combat was clearly not enough. He held out his hand and summoned Mjolnir, feeling the hammer sing in response. Hulk began to charge him – but with the barest of margins, Mjolnir arrived in his hand in time for Thor to swing a mighty uppercut and knock the green man into a fighter jet.

Hulk retaliated by pitching a large chuck of fuselage towards Thor, necessitating he dodge out of the way. Thor pitched Mjolnir at him, knocking the green man backwards. Hulk tried to grab the hammer but – thank the Fates – was unable to lift it. He bellowed as he strained against it, bucking against the deck.

Thor seized Mjolnir and used it to apply a chokehold. Surely even this creature required air and circulation to function – could Thor render him unconscious thusly? That would be ideal.

He was unsuccessful, finding himself knocked away again, then seized by the neck like vermin. Thor shouted inarticulately and spun the hammer, wondering how he could possibly hope to overcome him now.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a jet come level with the window they were standing before – and the pilot opened fire. Thor flinched away from the bullets and glass fragments, but it served only to enrage Hulk further. He dove for cover as the Hulk leapt out of the helicarrier and onto the jet, yanking the pilot from his seat. For a moment, Thor feared Hulk would kill him outright – but moments later, it appeared that both pilot and Hulk were merely plunging towards the ground.

The pilot, at least, had a parachute.

Thor did not know if Hulk could survive such a drop, or what condition it would leave him in. He closed his eyes in the brief lull that followed, and offered up a prayer to his own higher powers and to Gaia that both Hulk and Doctor Bruce Banner would be unharmed by their fall, and would return to sanity.

~ * ~

Despite Maria’s calm presence, the bridge was chaos. Agents were wounded in the initial shake-up, and equipment was damaged – some of it severely.

She’d never before properly appreciated why Lance’s Gaelic name meant ‘anchor of the clan.’ She hadn’t seen him in action often – she wasn’t in the field with the Scoobies, and Lance didn’t have much occasion to work with her on administrative matters. 

He was earning it now.

With a grace and instinct that she had to guess was Gaia aided, Lance knew exactly which agent needed a pat on the shoulder and which needed a sharp word. He knew which console was a ten-minute repair, and which wasn’t salvageable. And moreover – he knew how to keep Maria grounded. Each time her eyes fell on him, he’d flash her a quick Scooby hand signal – telling her where each of their clanmates were in short, quick bursts that didn’t interrupt her work but did relieve her mind.

Maria could have kissed him.

Unfortunately, one of the systems that was failing was the navigation system – and the helmsmen were at an utter loss as to what to do next. Maria was more concerned with keeping the ship in the air than pointing it in any direction. The reappearance of Fury on the bridge answered why that mattered at all.

“Bring the carrier inwards and head south. Take us to the water,” Fury ordered – in the same tone he’d have used for a routine training flight.

The helmsman looked at him helplessly. “Navigations are uncalibrated after the engine failure.”

Fury scoffed. “Is the sun coming up?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Then put it on the left! Get us over water!” And – oh, that made so much sense. Maria wanted to kick herself for not understanding sooner. “One more turbine goes down and we drop.”

Getting the ship somewhere safer was good – and Stark seemed to be making progress on the repairs to the engine. What was significantly less good was getting word that Banner had become the Hulk – nearly killed Natasha – and was now wrestling with Thor.

“We need a full evac on the lower hangar bay,” Fury ordered Maria – who began to follow that command – only to be stymied by the very worst type of surprise.

“Grenade!” Maria shouted – not even enough warning for someone to leap on it.

Immediately following the grenade were hostiles in SHIELD gear – a very unwelcome sight. Fury pulled his sidearm at the same time Hill did, and they weren’t alone. The gunfight was brutal, and felt like it went on forever.

They were still fighting the intruders when Sitwell informed them that the Hulk and Thor’s battle had spread to shuttle levels two through four. Definitely not good.

“Sir,” Maria called to Fury between shots, “the Hulk will tear this place apart!”

“Get his attention,” Fury ordered.

Maria hoped she never, ever had to order a fighter jet to fire on the helicarrier again. Particularly not a helicarrier she was on. That her clan was on. That her bunny and cricket were on.

Men continued to try and break through to the bridge, without success. Fury questioned their persistence… just in time to see Clint fire what sure as shit looked like a USB-tipped arrow into Fury’s command console.

Monitors flickered out on the bridge, and Maria’s heart sank… much like the helicarrier.

“Sir, we’ve lost all power to engine one!” Sitwell announced.

Lance immediately opened up the Scooby channel on his comm.. “Angeleyes, Lancelot here. We need your magic fingers. See if you can unhack the system, yeah?”

“Angeleyes here,” Angie answered after a breath. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. You want me on the bridge with you and Maria – Marigold – or stay here?”

“Bridge isn’t safe,” Lance said, glancing around.

Angie snorted. “If you’re under the impression there’s a single safe place on this damned ship, I’d like to know where that might be.”

“Medbay, maybe?” Lance theorized, firing at another attacker. “Just do what you can.”

Fury was shaking his head, ignoring the chatter on the bridge. “It’s Barton. He took out our systems,” he informed the general comm. “He’s headed for the detention level.” Maria wondered just how the hell Fury had come to that conclusion. “Does anybody copy?”

Deep in the bowels of the ship, Natasha had wedged herself in a tiny scrap of space, out of sight. To her horror, she’d been unable to resist tears – unable to master her fear after having run from the Hulk. Now, though – now, despite her body and heart aching, she had to act. “This is Agent Romanoff,” she choked out. “I copy.”

~ * ~

Natasha gave up on stifling the tears as she crept through the catwalks. She stopped caring who might see the Black Widow crying – none of that mattered.

She was on her way to stop her husband from freeing an interplanetary war criminal, and she had to use whatever means necessary to do so – without having any idea whether she could do it in a way that would also free her husband from the clutches of said criminal’s mind control.

It would make anyone cry, really.

As she got closer – she had no idea how she knew it was closer, she just knew – her mind yearned for the ground and Gaia, to feel the touch of her Goddess and to receive some kind of wisdom or instruction or – something.

There was nothing, though – continued silence in her mind, an empty cavern in which her screams echoed.

She turned a corner and – there, on the catwalk, was Clint. He was wearing the same uniform he’d been taken in, carrying Lucille and his favorite quiver. He looked unharmed… dirty, but uninjured. Normal, except for the vibrant blue eyes… and the fact that he had an arrow nocked on Lucille’s string, and it was pointed at her.

Natasha raised her hands instinctively. She wanted to say she wasn’t armed – but she found she couldn’t lie to her husband, even knowing it wasn’t truly him in control. Instead, she just stood there, trembling.

Clint’s unnaturally blue eyes narrowed on her, assessing. If it had been her dearling behind that look, he’d never have done what he did – which was to glance over his shoulder at the exit, gauging the distance.

It was enough. A running leap, and Natasha was on him – her legs clamped around his neck, hands scrabbling to pull Lucille out of his grasp. She flung the bow to the side, breath sobbing out of her now. “Clint, please,” she begged even as she tried to cut off his air. A chokehold would be safest – knock him unconscious, get him to Medical and see what could be done.

He didn’t answer her verbally, but spun and tried to dislodge her against a metal strut. His hands grabbed at her thighs and calves, leaving fingertip bruises that she’d really have preferred to earn another way. 

Maybe it was because she was still crying, or because she was tired – maybe just because his body knew hers… Clint was able to dislodge her. She found herself on her back on the metal catwalk, looking up at her husband with tears streaming down her cheeks. {Gaia, I don’t know if You can hear me,} Natasha prayed. {I doubt it, we’re so far up. But I don’t know what else to do, Mother.} She felt Clint’s hands close around her neck and knew she was out of time. She scrabbled to get away, but he kept her pinned beneath him.

\\\Your rings, m’inion!// Natasha heard – so faintly it was barely a whisper.

Sobbing with both the need to breathe and the need to grieve, Natasha brought her left hand up, twisted it awkwardly around her face, and brought her wedding ring down to connect with Clint’s.

Something… happened.

Twice before, Natasha had seen this place – this vast plane of dark upon which lights glowed. Those times, it had been as part of the Yule Solstice ceremony, and she’d seen all eleven druids lighting up the astral plane as celestial beacons.

Here, she saw thirteen lights, some brighter than others. Her own red one, tied inextricably with Clint’s purple and Phil’s blue. She saw Catriona, and Maria, and each of the Scoobies. Vaguely in the distance she saw threads of possibilities extending to others – saw, and celebrated, because it meant the growth of their clan.

But most of what she saw, what captured her immediate attention, was the fucking blue light caging Clint’s heartfire. 

It wasn’t the same shade as Phil’s – it was Tesseract blue, the color that Natasha was committed to having Pantone match just so that she could have Angie hack the world and ban it from ever appearing again. And seeing it here, in a place she found sacred, pissed her the fuck off.

Natasha surged forward – somehow, in this weirdly noncorporeal place – seized the lightning chains in her spectral hands, and _pulled._

The resulting shockwave knocked her out of the astral plane and back to herself, gasping on the metal catwalk of a plummeting helicarrier.

“Sunshine?” Clint croaked, looking down at Natasha. “Is that – are you – oh Goddess, are you alright?” He scrambled off her. “Did I hurt you?”

Natasha sprung to her feet and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him too tightly. {Is it really you?}

The pain in her mental voice made Clint’s heart ache. He brought one hand up to hold her head against his shoulder, settling the other low on her back. {It’s me, Sunshine.}

{I missed you. We missed you.} They were inadequate words, even telepathically, but she didn’t know what else to say.

The helicarrier shuddered around them. “Right.” Clint pulled away from the embrace, then cupped his hands around her chin and kissed her. “Okay. That should tide me over until we’re off red alert, yeah?”

She nodded her head, still having trouble speaking. {We need to report in.}

Clint retrieved Lucille from where Natasha had flung her and held out his hand to his wife. {We’ll do that from Medical. I need you to get checked out, Sunshine. You’re limping, and… and I know I went at you pretty hard. Phil on the bridge?}

{Last I heard, he was headed to the armory, and then the holding cell.}

~ * ~

Something Lance had said over the comms twigged at Misty. He hadn’t directed it at her – he’d been talking to Angie – but he had mentioned the Medbay as the safest place to be.

Misty had to agree. Not only was she unlikely to be shot at there – help would be on hand. Catriona and Raj were there, so she wouldn’t be alone… and she could be useful.

Even with the cricket’s safety paramount, Misty really wanted to be useful.

“Buffy here,” Misty said over the Scooby channel. “I’m leaving Tactical and making for the Medbay. Figure they can use an extra set of hands right now.”

“God, can we ever,” Raj answered immediately. “Yeah, get your ass down here, Buff. I can use you – and the pixie nodded and said something in Gaelic that I’m thinking was a prayer, so she’s on board with that plan too.”

“Somebody let Sensei know,” Misty ordered. “Siege? You with him?”

CJ’s voice was quiet, muffled. “Yeah. We’re almost to the holding cell. Going radio silent for now.”

~ * ~


	11. Chapter 11

The obedient servant saw an opportunity. The Mistress would desire it be taken, the servant knew – had it been possible to receive communications from her at this time, there was no doubt that it would have become an order. The servant’s conscience warred with this. To act would provide aid to not only an enemy of the target – but potentially an enemy of all humanity, and thus the Mistress. The servant weighed the options and chose to take the opportunity.

The servant immediately regretted it.

The servant recognized that this meant the end – they had been compromised. This mission was no longer sustainable… and probably had not been for some time.

It should be abandoned. And, to follow protocol, it should be done in such a way that would keep the servant’s secret but leave the targets in poor condition.

The servant could not do that.

Time would be bided, then. Not until the end of the current crisis (could one call an invasion by an extraterrestrial demigod a mere crisis?) would the operative take steps to extract from the mission.

From the squad.

From the family.

~ * ~

Once he’d caught his breath – being used as a plaything by a giant green rage monster was a bit taxing – Thor headed for the section of the ship that was serving as the detention center. To his horror, he arrived just in time to see Loki stepping out of the cylindrical cage. “No!” He changed at Loki – only to discover that the Trickster had used an illusion. Thor found himself caged instead, staring at his brother with impotent rage.

“Are you ever not going to fall for that?” Loki taunted.

Enraged, Thor raised Mjolnir and brought her down against the glass. It cracked – but the failsafes that Fury had built into the Hulk-proof cylinder meant that it jostled in its bearings – loosened now, prepared to fall.

Loki flicked a quick glance to the side at his soldier, standing at attention, then grinned. “The humans think us immortal.” He strode to the control panel, flipping up the button to release the cage out of the helicarrier – to plunge straight down the tens of thousands of feet to the ground. “Shall we test that?”

The soldier… crumpled. Thor could not see exactly what caused it at first, but as the man fell, he revealed the form of Phil Coulson, bearing an untested weapon prototype and an expression of pure steel. Behind him – out of Loki’s line of sight – Thor saw another agent, a young man… very young.

Phil had to work to control his expression. Standing in front of him was the man – demigod – that had stolen his husband, and was responsible for dozens of deaths and injuries. “Move away, please.” He gestured with the weapon, his eyes never leaving Loki. “You like this? We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer in New Mexico. You know… the last time you fought against the Warriors of Gaia.” He flipped a switch, and the weapon glowed to life. “Even I don’t know what it does. Would you like to find out?”

Loki lashed out with the scepter. Phil had a split second to wonder how he’d gotten it back before the pain hit. He heard Thor cry out – heard CJ shout – but neither seemed critical at the moment. Not with an Asgardian weapon impaling him – and he had enough training to know that if it hadn’t pierced his heart, it would be a fucking miracle.

Ignoring Phil now, Loki yanked the scepter free and moved back to the control panel. He met Thor’s eyes through the cracked glass – over Phil’s crumpled form. For an endless instant, the brotherhood of centuries flickered between them, and Thor dared to hope – but it was not to be. Loki closed his eyes and pressed the button.

The glass cage fell out of the helicarrier and began its descent.

“Raj!” CJ shouted into his comm – or thought he shouted. It was hard to tell – he was screaming in his head but wasn’t sure if it was coming out of his mouth. “Raj, I need Catriona in the containment room ASAP. Faster than ASAP. Chief’s hurt bad.”

“How bad?” Raj asked immediately.

CJ swallowed hard. “The bad that ends in goodbye, if a druid doesn’t get here.”

He’d spoken too loudly – it caught the attention of the demigod. CJ wavered under the glare suddenly leveled upon him. With a bravery he didn’t feel, CJ forced himself to his full height. “You’re going to lose.”

Loki cocked an eyebrow at him. “Am I?” He laughed – but there was no humor in it. CJ heard despair where he expected the ring of victory. “Your heroes are scattered… your floating fortress falls from the sky… where is my disadvantage?”

Gritting his teeth, CJ jutted his jaw forward. “You lack conviction.”

From the floor, Phil fired the prototype weapon. It blew Loki out of the immediate chamber – and CJ saw the shocked demigod flee. “So that’s what it does,” Phil said absently, patting the weapon.

CJ dropped to his knees next to Phil. “Catriona’s on her way, Chief. You’re gonna be okay.”

“We’re too far up for her to reach Gaia,” Phil told him gently. Talking hurt – everything hurt. “I don’t think I’m getting out of this one, kiddo.” Though it took a lot of effort, Phil managed to raise one hand to CJ’s face and stroke his cheek. “It’s okay. It had to be done.” 

The sharpshooter felt tears spring up. Phil had never called him that, ever. “You’ll be fine,” CJ repeated. His voice broke on the last word. “You can’t – the Goddess won’t let you die.” He had to believe that. Had to. Because a world without Phil Coulson in it? CJ didn’t think he could do it.

Phil’s hand was warm and tender on CJ’s cheek, stroking lightly. “It’s worth it, to keep all of you safe.”

Covering Phil’s hand with his own, CJ felt his heart breaking. “It’s not. We need you, Chief. You have to hold on.”

~ * ~

Catriona attempted to planewalk directly into the detention chamber, but the motion of the ship interfered with her calculations and she missed by eight feet or so – enough that she was in the corridor outside it, rather than in the room itself. That would not have been a problem, were it not for the fact that she met Director Nicolas Fury in the corridor – and he seemed to be under the mistaken impression that he could prevent her passage.

“Witch!” he exclaimed the moment he laid eye on her. “Get the hell off my ship!”

“No.” Catriona wished she were wearing her robe – wished she had the ornaments of her rank and especially her quarterstaff. “I am here performing my duty to the Goddess, and nothing you say or do can prevent that.” She gestured imperiously. “Move.”

“I don’t answer to you,” Fury snarled, and stalked towards Catriona.

If she’d had time, she might have tried to reason with him. Maybe. But Phil did not have time… so Catriona did the only thing she could think of. “Faireoir! I require your assistance!”

A very startled CJ appeared in the doorway to the detention chamber – and upon seeing the tableau, he took a deep breath and focused on Fury. “Director, I’m afraid I must ask you to step aside.”

“Or you’ll what?” Fury snapped.

Aware that what he was about to do was the end of his career, CJ pulled his sidearm and pointed it at the Director. “I’m sorry, sir,” CJ said calmly. “But there’s nothing on or off this planet that I’ll allow to keep Catriona from Phil. That includes you.”

Fury backed away a step – far enough for Catriona to get by. The druid shot into the detention chamber immediately. “I’ll have your job for this,” Fury told CJ.

“I know.” His hand didn’t waver.

A muscle twitched in Fury’s jaw. “This isn’t over.” But it appeared to be at least at intermission, because the Director swirled his coat and disappeared down a corridor.

CJ slumped in relief – just for a half second – and reholstered his weapon before scurrying back into the chamber where Phil lay bleeding.

~ * ~

Blood immediately began to saturate the knees of Catriona’s borrowed uniform when she got to Phil’s side. Too much blood, she knew – CJ had been right. Left untended, this was a fatal wound.

“I know we’re too far up,” Phil murmured to Catriona. “It’s alright. I’ve already had my share of miracles, little one. I don’t expect another.”

Catriona glared at him. “It will not be easy, and it will not be clean – but it will be done,” she told him forcibly. She laid her hands over the wound on his chest and concentrated, seeking Gaia. They were indeed very far up – almost too far. 

Almost, but not.

She heard CJ come back in. “Faireoir, listen to me,” she said urgently. “What I am going to do – Phil and I will be in a trance, aye? We cannot be disturbed. You must guard us from all.” She looked up at him, her fingers stained with Phil’s blood. “I can do this, but it will not be fast.”

“I’ll guard you with my life,” CJ promised, looking pale. Almost as pale as Phil. He took a stance between them and the door, his hand on his pistol – looking at once resolute and terrified.

“Make sure the others know,” Catriona added. “We will not be able to speak.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

Satisfied, Catriona closed her eyes and reached for the Goddess. {Mother, it is time.}

\\\So it is, my dearest druid.// To Phil’s surprise, he could hear Gaia as well – not as loudly as he had in Ireland, but there was no mistaking the sensation. \\\Greetings, Treorai Phil. I suspect you have a notion why I am contacting you.//

{I accept,} Phil said immediately.

There was a tinkling, tickling laugh. \\\You have not yet heard my offer.//

{Doesn’t matter.} Phil would have shrugged if he could. {I told myself when I first learned of You that if you ever made an offer, I would accept. I’ve considered myself one of Yours since then.}

\\\You are a good man, Treorai.// There was a pause. \\\That is why I would like to bring you into my service – but not as a Warrior.//

{I don’t think I have the temperament to be a Druid, Great Mother.}

\\\Nor do I. That is not the role for which I believe you suited. It is a notion from your bondmate, Boghdoir – a new type of Chosen that is a bridge between my Warriors and my Druids. Someone who bonds with a specific Druid, to be their protector… and to aid in the care and training of that druid’s Warriors.//

{Like a handler?}

\\\Quite. I shall call thee Guardian,// Gaia informed him, \\\and name the Caomhnoir Treorai Phil – Guardian Guide Phil. If it pleases thee, I shall bind thee to my beloved daughter, Catriona Alanna, that you may both guide and guard her in my service.//

Phil thought he swallowed hard – he meant to, anyway. {Does this – forgive me Mother, but I must ask. Would this supplant a bond with my achroi ghra?}

\\\Not at all – though it will be similar.// He felt an odd ripple, something like having the hair brushed back from his face. \\\You will have your bond with Boghdoir and M’inion, and it will be everything you have hoped for. What you will share with Catriona Alanna will be similar, but not the same. You will know her mind, and be aware of her physical condition, but it will be less intimate than that which you will share with your achroi ghra.// Gaia paused. \\\I would never deny my Chosen their heartmates, for the work you must do for me is oft a burden – and the presence of those who are loved provides solace from such pursuits.//

{Then nothing would please me more, Mother.}

\\\Well and done. Bend your mind and your will to me, then, Treorai. Your binding shall be both different and more challenging this day, giving your distance from me and difference from a Warrior.//

He nodded, or tried to, and turned his entire mind over to the Goddess, just as he had turned the health of his body over to her High Priestess.

~ * ~

Fury stood in a hidden corridor, racing through possibilities. Finally – decision made – he spoke into his comm. “Agent Coulson is down.”

On the bridge, Maria and Lance’s heads came up, their eyes meeting. “I’ll alert medical,” Maria said into the comm.

“They’re here,” Fury lied. There was a long pause. “They called it.” Stunned – and disbelieving – silence followed. “Get me Stark and Rogers in the briefing room ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” Maria agreed. She closed the comm and looked at Lance again with wide eyes.

Lance switched his comm to the Scooby channel. “Lancelot here with Marigold – ”

“He said it over an open fucking comm,” CJ snarled. “He lied over an open comm line. Phil’s alive, I swear. Catriona’s with him now. Loki stabbed him with the scepter thing but she’s doing her druid voodoo thing and they’re in a trance and can’t talk but I swear by all that’s holy, I’m watching the wound in his chest close, guys. He’s gonna live – and when he snaps out of this healing trance, he’s gonna fucking kill Fury.”

Lance’s shoulders drooped in relief. He relayed that to Maria as quickly and privately as he could with a combination of words and hand signs. “Roger that, Siege,” he answered, mindful that there were other agents to hear him. “Reckon we should find out the game plan before we react, yeah?”

There was a long pause on the comms. Misty spoke next. “You mean, not expose Fury’s lie until we know what he’s doing with it? That’s devious, Lancelot.” A pause. “I like it.”

“There’s also an added benefit,” Chuck drawled. “If we let his lie stand, we can watch Phil call him on it later… and I for one really look forward to that showdown.”

“Good point.” Misty looked up from the agent she was bandaging when the Medbay door opened, and gasped. “Clint!”

She completely abandoned her duty and didn’t care, flinging herself into Clint’s arms. “Hey, easy,” Clint soothed, immediately steadying her. He looked around at the other agents in the infirmary. Many of them were eyeing warily. “I’m okay, grasshopper.” Giving up on discretion – because fuck, did it really matter any more? – Clint wrapped his arms around Misty and rocked her gently side to side. Natasha stepped closer, resting her hand on Clint’s back.

Raj approached slowly. “You’re okay?” he asked Clint. “Really okay?”

“Yeah.” Clint kissed the side of Misty’s head and then nudged her away so that he could hug Raj. The medic looked surprised but relaxed into it. “Somebody give me a sitrep.”

Misty hopped up on one of the empty treatment beds – there were a few, to her surprise, probably because SHIELD agents were stubborn and insisted on going back to the fight as soon as possible. “Loki’s flown the coop and we’re dead in the water after the hack attack. Bruce and Thor are both AWOL. We’ve got no idea what the blue-eyed bastard is up to next. Lance and Ria are on the bridge, Chuck’s in engineering with Angie. I think Sam and Al are still in the armory. Catriona and CJ are with Phil.” Her eyes slid to Raj. “And. Um. Phil’s… injured.” Natasha’s eyes widened and she reached for her comm. “He can’t talk right now,” Misty added when she saw the movement – which didn’t help.

“Catriona is with him,” Raj repeated softly. “CJ is guarding them. It is… it is apparently more difficult, given our elevation.”

Natasha turned to Clint with tears in her eyes and then just… crumpled.

Clint swept her up into his arms and sat down on the exam bed next to Misty. “He’ll be okay, Sunshine.” He was past caring if anyone overheard. There were plenty of agents in the room to witness this, and Clint just – didn’t care. “If Catriona’s got him, that means Gaia’s got him, and he’ll be just fine.”

“Why don’t you take her into one of the exam rooms,” Misty suggested softly. She gestured. “Give you a little more privacy.”

“Thanks.” Clint carried her into the room and closed the door. 

Misty hugged herself – and when that didn’t help enough, she hugged Raj. “Sensei’s going to be okay, right?”

Raj patted her back gently. “We can but pray.”

~ * ~

Fury sucked in one fortifying breath before he swept into the briefing room for what he knew was the most critical performance of his professional life. He reached into the pocket of his trench coat and produced a handful of bloodstained cards, flinging them onto the table in front of Steve. “These were in Phil Coulson’s jacket.” Steve touched one of the cards – one of him and Bucky smiling at each other. “Guess he never did get you to sign them.”

He paced around the table. “We’re dead in the air here,” Fury told them. “Our communications, location of the cube. Banner. Thor. I got nothing for you.” He managed a wan smile. “Lost my one good eye.” He glanced at the cards to emphasize the loss. “Maybe I had that coming.” 

Turning to face Steve, Fury continued. “Yes, we were going to build an arsenal with the Tesseract. I never put all my chips on that number though, because I was playing something even riskier.” He folded his hands on the back of one of the chairs. “There was an idea – Stark knows this – ” he gestured to Tony, “called the Avengers Initiative. The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people… see if they could become something more. See if they could work together when we needed them to… to fight the battles that we never could.” He straightened up, letting the burden of his years show in the movement. “Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea.”

Tony rose and stalked away, leaving Steve alone at the briefing room table.

“Well,” Fury sighed, “it’s an old-fashioned notion.”

Steve shot him a glare and got up to follow Tony. It wasn’t difficult – he wasn’t even trying for stealth. Tony had gotten almost to the detention center before being stopped by agents and informed he couldn’t proceed without authorization. Tony whirled, and Steve caught him by the arm. To Steve’s surprise, Tony’s eyes were red with unshed tears.

Operating entirely on instinct, Steve tugged Tony out of the corridor and into one of the many small rooms. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.” He was – completely and genuinely. He was feeling it too, to some extent – though most of his heartache was for Misty. She must be devastated, and Steve wanted to seek her out as soon as possible… but Tony was here now, and Steve couldn’t walk away from such blatant need.

Tony’s chin trembled once, but he shook his head. “He wasn’t – ” For the life of him, Tony couldn’t manage to say it – couldn’t manage to deny a friendship with Phil Coulson. For all that it had been adversarial… Phil had treated him with more kindness than Tony was used to seeing from people, particularly people that needed something from him. Tears sprung again and were just as ruthlessly stifled.

“He seemed like a good man,” Steve offered. He could see that Tony needed to grieve – knew that knife’s edge of composure intimately. His own grief – too recent, in his mind, for all it had been seventy years for the others – threatened to drown him briefly. 

“He was an idiot,” Tony retorted, one hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Why?” Steve asked gently. “For believing?”

“For taking on Loki alone.”

Carefully – because it seemed to him like Tony was on the verge of shattering – Steve put a hand on the older man’s shoulder. It wasn’t shrugged off this time, and Steve counted it as a victory. (He didn’t question why this felt perfectly fine now, whereas a few hours ago he’d been ready to strangle Tony.) “He was doing his job.”

“He was out of his league!” Tony protested. “He should have waited! He should have…”

“Sometimes there isn’t a way out, Tony.” 

It was the naked, aching pain in his voice that prevented Tony from exploding. Abruptly he was reminded of how damned young Steve was – and how little time he’d been awake in this time. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks – and he’d lost everyone, hadn’t he? Tony couldn’t even… it was no wonder Steve was edgy. Tony would be too, if he’d woken up seventy years in the future, without Rhodey and Pepper. 

Ten minutes of silence passed before Steve spoke again. “Is this the first time you’ve lost a soldier?”

“We are not soldiers!” Tony jerked away from Steve and began pacing. “I am not marching to Fury’s fife.”

Steve cursed inwardly but didn’t let it show on his face. So much for being a supportive teammate – he’d managed to fuck that up spectacularly. “Neither am I,” he placated. “He’s got the same blood on his hands that Loki does, and probably more.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter right now. We’ve got to put it aside and get this done.” He started to pace as well, though perpendicular to Tony. “Loki needs a power source. If we can put together a list…”

“We,” Tony repeated blankly, looking at Steve.

“I’m sorry?”

“We. Us.” Tony stopped dead in the middle of the room. “He made it personal. Selvig, a friend of Thor’s. Barton, a friend of Agent Romanoff and Agent Coulson. Now Coulson, a friend of ours… that’s the point. That’s Loki’s point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?”

“To tear us apart?” Steve suggested.

“Divide and conquer’s great, but… he knows he has to take us out to win, right? That’s what he wants.” Tony’s hands started to wave as his brain sped up, and Steve tucked away a smile – it reminded him of an Italian lady he’d known during the war. “He wants to beat us, and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Right. I caught his act in Stuttgart.”

“Yeah. But that was just a preview. This is opening night. Loki’s a full-tilt diva. He wants flowers, he ants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered – ” Tony’s eves went very wide. “Son of a bitch.”

“Your tower.” It wasn’t a question. “It could power this… whatever?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah. Fuck, it could.” He rubbed his forehead. “Which means this confrontation is going down in the middle of a metropolitan area.” He turned a kicked the wall. “Damn it, I already miss Agent, because he’d know how to get the area around the Tower evacuated.”

“I bet I know the next best thing,” Steve said with a small smile. “The blonde, Misty? She’s Agent Coulson’s protege. I’ll talk to her, see what can be done.”

“Okay. Good.” Some of the tension bled out of Tony. “That’s good.”

“Can your suit get you to the Tower?” Steve asked. “Or are you going to need a ride with us?”

“I can fly – who’s us?”

Steve smiled, a little sadly. “I know of at least one agent on this ship that’s going to want to join us in taking down Loki.” Natasha must be prostrate with grief – though given how self-possessed she was, he doubted it would show until after the crisis was over. “When I track down Misty, I’ll see who wants in. We’ll be going without authorization – figure we’ll borrow a bird, and meet you at the Tower.”

“Borrow, huh?” Tony smiled a little too. “Alright. I’ll be down in Engineering Bay Eight, assuming it’s still intact. Got to do some makeshift repairs first. Buzz me when you’re ready to leave.” He paused. “You know how to use a cell phone?”

“I do.” Steve rifled through his pockets and produced a small notepad. He scribbled down his own number and handed it to Tony.

Tony took the sheet of paper, looked at it, and stuffed it in a pocket. “Right.” He exited the small room, walking with purpose now. He’d do some quick refit of the repulsors, and then pick up a new suit when he got to the Tower.

Steve took a fortifying breath and reached for his cell phone. He punched Misty’s contact and waited. When she answered, he almost sank to his knees in relief. “Where are you? Can I come see you?”

“I’m in Medbay – helping out, not injured. You’re welcome to join me.”

So he did – pausing first to suit up. He kept the cowl down, but it was clear that the uniform commanded respect.

The medical bay wasn’t as busy as he expected. Several beds were occupied. They looked like broken limbs, from what Steve could tell. He didn’t get much of a chance to really look, given that as soon as he crossed into the room he had his arms full of a blonde agent. “Whoa!”

Misty burrowed close to him. “You’re okay.”

He glanced around, noting that there were eyes on them – and decided that if she didn’t care, he didn’t. “I’m okay.” Steve closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her hair. “You? And…?”

“We’re good.” Her arms tightened around him. “Today’s been really fucking awful, but we’re okay.”

Steve could only imagine how hard today had been for her – but he knew now wasn’t the time to discuss it, either. His memories of his Ma’s patients told him that pregnant ladies were exceptionally sensitive to emotion… and if she was functioning right now despite losing her sensei, he didn’t want to rock the boat any more than was necessary. Some boat rocking would have to be done, though. “I need a favor.”

“Name it.” Her nose was pressed into the skin on his neck, just above where the uniform ended.

“We’re pretty sure Loki’s headed to Stark Tower.” She tensed in his arms, and he ran a soothing hand down her back. “Can you do anything to start evacuations in the area?”

She pulled back to look at him. “Yeah…” Misty’s brain started to whir. “Yeah, I can do that.” She was mentally composing her call to NYPD and NYFD, and she’d need the National Guard… maybe even the Army. 

“Okay. Good.” He held her close a moment longer, just needing the touch. “Do you know where I can find Agent Romanoff? I don’t want to bother her, but – I think she’ll want to join us, when we go on this particular hunt.”

“She’s in Exam Three,” Misty said, gesturing. “Her and Clint. Agent Barton.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “He cleared for duty?”

“Not officially.” Misty plucked at the star on his uniform. “But I’d trust him with my life. Or yours.”

That was good enough for Steve. “Alright.” He reluctantly released her. “What are the chances you’re going to stay out of this fight?”

“Slim to none,” she answered promptly – although the truth was, she was likely to stay here in the medical bay. 

“What if I asked you to?”

Misty crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. Across the room, she saw Raj straighten up from what he was doing, watching to see if she needed backup. “Steven Grant Rogers,” she said warningly, “you have no right to ask me – ”

“I care about you,” Steve interrupted in a low voice. “Damn it, doll.”

“That’s no excuse to treat me like I’m made of porcelain! You need to back off!”

“The last time I backed off I watched my whole life fall from a train,” he hissed. Misty blinked and started to reply, but Steve shook his head. He covered his face with his hand. “I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “You’re right. I got no claim on you, an’ it ain’t fair of me to ask it.”

She stepped close again and rested her hand on his arm. He only ever sounded that Brooklyn when he was emotional, and she guessed he was having trouble dealing with the events of the day. Who wouldn’t be? “I’m planning on staying here in Medical,” Misty offered quietly. “They need the hands, and it’s a safe place. Alright?”

“Thank you.” He covered her hand with his own and held it there a moment longer. “Alright. Duty calls.” He straightened his shoulders and made for Exam Three.

~ * ~

Thor tumbled endlessly as he fell, knowing he needed to get out of this glass monstrosity. The walls resisted Mjolnir – that, and the spinning. The spinning definitely made landing a solid strike difficult.

Eventually he managed to break through – by dint of extreme force and a judicious prayer – and he crashed into a meadow, leaving a furrow in the dirt that a farmer would’ve been proud to plow.

Coming to a stop, he knew he needed to get moving. He had to find Loki, had to stop this. The Earth was too precious to be overrun by the Chitauri – it held so many wondrous creatures, and people. His own Lady Jane, and the friends he’d met these days…

… and lost.

As Thor walked in the meadow, approaching Mjolnir, he was struck with deep grief. Chief Coulson was dead, killed by Loki. There was no way that wound had avoided the chief’s great heart – and so high above the green hills of Eire, Thor doubted even Lady Catriona would have been able to heal him. 

So… he had failed, then. Even if he managed to defeat Loki in an hour, or a day, Thor would still have failed. He had cost the High Priestess her Clanchief. He had failed her in an extreme fashion – one he doubted she would recover from.

Thor came upon Mjolnir in the field and regarded the hammer with apprehension. Would he still be worthy? He did not feel it. Placing his hand above the hilt, he flexed it. Would she yet come to his call? Or had he broken too much for that?

Mjolnir leaped the six inches to his hand, and Thor nearly wept with relief. Very well. If Mjolnir still wished him to be her bearer, then he must do what he could – must take action to stop Loki.

The hammer twitched in his hand when he thought of his brother. He felt a slight tug and raised it in the air. Curious, Thor turned in a circle. Mjolnir was most assuredly indicating a direction. Would this take him to Loki? Thor was not certain. He did not understand the hammer, for all that he had been her bearer for centuries. There was little known about her – in fact, few regarded her as having any kind of consciousness at all, though Thor believed her to and treated her accordingly. The tugging intensified, and Thor nodded. Very well. If she had a direction, he would oblige. He had no other plan, and he had been well served in the past by listening to the directions of more powerful beings than himself… even if it was unconventional to consider one’s weapon as a power greater than himself.

~ * ~

Natasha was still weeping against Clint’s chest, and he had no idea what to do. Crying wife was bad. Inconsolable wife in semi-public was worse. She wasn’t answering him telepathically, either. Given his druthers, Clint would have poured vodka down her, fed her a pan of brownies, and put her to sleep – but for some reason, suggesting that even teasingly in her mind made her cry harder.

{It’s because we had a plan for when you got home, pretty bird,} Clint heard in his mind – and fuck if that wasn’t – 

{Phil!}

Clint sat bolt upright on the hard bed, his eyes meeting Natasha’s. {Loverling?} Natasha sounded pitiful even in her mind.

{Oh, love.} There was a wash of emotion – sympathy, compassion, and a deep abiding love. {If I could, I would be there with you right now – but while Gaia has released my mind, I’m afraid Catriona isn’t done with my body. Apparently, healing at this altitude is tricky and complicated by the fact that the weapon wasn’t from this planet.}

{But you’re going to be okay?} Natasha asked, shivering against Clint. 

She could almost feel him smile. {Both Gaia and Catriona tell me that I am. I must have faith in that.} His attention caressed Clint. {How are you? Both of you?}

Clint hugged Natasha closer to him, nuzzling into her neck. {I have a marked distaste for a particular shade of blue, and I could really use a Harry Potter marathon – but I’m good,} Clint told them both. {Nat did some weird voodoo that… well, I don’t know, cleared Loki out of my brain.}

{I went to the astral plain and broke the chains,} Natasha supplied. The idea made her shiver again. {It was… strange. I feel almost hungover.}

{The crash course I’ve just gotten on the druidic arts suggests that’s a kind of psionic backlash – and us talking like this probably isn’t helping,} Phil said gently. 

{I’d rather have the mother of all headaches than cut off from you right now, Moonbeam,} Clint said fiercely. 

Natasha sniffled and wiped at her eyes. It flashed through Clint’s mind that she looked luminous – but also very much like Lila. {The space in my head was so empty. It isn’t now. I don’t… I can’t…}

{Alright.} Phil’s mental voice was softer. {Let me just drift then. I don’t want to make this any harder on Catriona. I’m not going anywhere.}

Clint relaxed into the exam bed and kissed the side of Natasha’s head. {I’m okay with just drifting for a while. I need to top off my batteries.}

~ * ~

There were always two questions top of mind when Bruce surfaced from the Hulk: Where am I? and Did I hurt anyone?

He didn’t have a broader picture yet of where he was, but the specifics he got – he was lying in a pile of rubble. The ceiling of whatever structure he was in was… missing. That was a good clue he’d come in that way. Bruce hoped no one had been – 

“You fell out of the sky.” Bruce’s eyes flashed to the man – a thin, older man standing at the edge of the crater Bruce had created, looking curious – but not frightened. He was wearing a uniform, but this one didn’t prick at Bruce’s anxiety – security guards rarely carried the kind of firepower that the military did.

“Did I hurt anybody?”

The man smiled a little. “There’s nobody around to get hurt. Did scare the hell out of some pigeons, though.”

Bruce blew out a relieved breath. “Lucky.”

“Or just good aim,” the guard said placidly. “You were awake when you fell.”

The man had seen Hulk in action, and hadn’t run screaming from the building? “You saw?”

“The whole thing… right through the ceiling. Big and green and buck ass nude.” He tossed a pair of pants down to Bruce. “I didn’t think those would fit you until you shrunk down to a regular sized feller.”

Bruce seized the pants grateful and clambered into them. “Thank you.” 

“Are you an alien?” the man asked in that calm tone. 

“Uh… what?”

“From outer space. An alien?”

Given the day he’d had – days – that question wasn’t as strange as it might have been. “No.”

The man nodded his head a little. “Well then, son. You’ve got a condition.”

Bruce barked out a laugh. “Yeah. That’s a good way to put it.” A shirt was tossed down as well, and Bruce tugged it on. “Can you give me directions to New York City? Manhattan. I need to get to the new Stark Tower.”

“I can do you one better.” The guard – who never introduced himself – led Bruce to a somewhat dilapidated motorcycle. “Go ahead and take her. You’ve the look of a man on a mission.”

“You could say that.” Bruce ran a hand through his hair, dislodging more brick dust. He accepted the map and directions before offering his hand to the elderly man. “Thank you. I really appreciate the help.”

“Tis my pleasure, laddie.” His accent had slipped – but Bruce wouldn’t notice that until much later. The guard shook his hand firmly. “Luck be with you on yon quest.”

~ * ~

Steve knocked once on the door to exam three, and pushed it open when he was invited to. He hadn’t really expected to find the newly widowed Natasha curled up with another man – but then, this would be the missing agent, the other friend of Misty’s… they were probably close.

“I hate to bother you right now… but I thought you’d like a chance to be with us, when we go after Loki.” Steve tried to keep his voice as even and respectful as possible.

Natasha and the other man – Clint Barton, that was his name – exchanged a long look. Steve recognized it, sort of. He’d traded similar looks with the Howlies – it came from long experience together in the field, the ability to damn near read each other’s minds. “We’re in,” Natasha said. She unfolded herself and rose. “Steve Rogers… this is Clint Barton.”

Clint extended a hand for Steve to shake. “Misty was damned excited to get to work with you – I hear she’s been good help for you.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. “She’s a swell dame.”

“And she must be fond of you, if you can get away with calling her that,” Clint added, laughing. “Alright. Where are we going, and how are we getting there?”

“Stark Tower… and I was planning to borrow a jet.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that Captain America was the hijacking type.”

“He isn’t,” Steve said drily. “Steve Rogers is. But we’re borrowing it – I intend to give it back.”

Clint rose too, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Alright. I need a few minutes in the armory to restock my quiver. Nat?”

“I want to check in with the Scoobies,” Natasha said, rubbing at her eyes. Steve thought they looked red – but then, he couldn’t blame her. “All of them. I gather I don’t have time to visit them all?”

Steve bit his lip. “Depends how long it takes Tony to make the repairs he wanted. He’s going to call me when he’s ready.”

“Right.” Natasha pushed open the exam room door and stepped back into the main room of the medical bay.

While they’d been closeted, another agent had been brought in – this one a large black man that Misty was fluttering over.

“Chuckles.” Natasha made a beeline for him and, to Steve’s surprise, wrapped him in a hug.

“Ouch!” The man flinched back, putting a hand on his ribs. “Easy, matrarc. I’ve got bruised—”

“—broken—”

“—ribs thanks to the damned Asgardian, for the third damned time. Don’t interrupt me, Raj.” He eased himself back down on the exam bed. “And no handy voodoo this time, given—” He cut himself off, though Steve didn’t understand why. (He hadn’t seen the hand signal passing from Clint to Chuck.)

Misty fluttered over to him – Steve couldn’t think of a better way to describe her movements, given the way she was flitting between beds. Perhaps it was a manifestation of her grief, or anxiety? “Steve, c’mere.” She held out a hand imperiously as she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Steve Rogers, this is Chuck Bellamy. Chuck’s my squad second.”

“Oh!” Steve smiled then and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Thanks for keepin’ an eye on Misty.”

“Oh my God, is he for real?” Chuck breathed. “Cap, she don’t need no eye on her – and she’s gonna skin us both alive if we suggest otherwise.”

Clint put an arm around Misty’s waist and laughed. “They’ve got your number, grasshopper.” He kissed her temple. As delighted as Steve was to meet more of Misty’s people… there was a vague sense of jealousy that she was so obviously affectionate with them. He’d kind of naively hoped it was something special to him. Not that Steve wanted anything beyond her friendship – he wasn’t ready for that, and Misty was spoken for. He’d just hoped somehow that it was as remarkable to her as it was to him, to be that comfortable with each other.

Pushing the matter aside, Steve shook his head once to clear it. “Do you need help in the armory, Barton? Or should I see if Tony needs help in the engineering bay?”

“Call me Clint, and no – I don’t.” He smiled a little at Natasha. “Lucille and I will head down there… I’ll meet you on hangar three in what, fifteen minutes?”

“Sure.” Steve watched him go. “Who’s Lucille?”

Natasha laughed. Misty and Chuck joined her, as did a dark-skinned man that Steve was pretty sure was one of Misty’s. The doctor friend she mentioned? What was his name? It was Indian of some kind. Right, Chuck had called him Raj.

“Lucille’s the name of his bow,” Natasha said fondly. “You get used to it.”

“Anything you need me to do for the next fifteen minutes?” Steve asked Misty. “Or should I go find Tony?”

Misty looked from Raj to Chuck to Natasha to Steve. “Yes. You can give me more cuddles. At least five minutes. And then you can go find Stark.” She made grabby hands at him, still seated on the edge of Chuck’s bed. “You’re not going to scandalize the Scoobies, I promise.”

Natasha leaned over to kiss Misty’s forehead. “I’m going to do a few errands of my own – and check in with the fledglings.” She repeated the gesture to Chuck and Raj, which thoroughly confused Steve. “Meet you in the hangar.” Then she too was gone.

Steve sat down on the edge of the bed next to Misty and slid his arm around her. When that wasn’t close enough, Misty just clambered into his lap. He shifted his arms to hold her more securely, chuckling. “You are an odd duck, Misty Summers.”

“Not a duck,” she mumbled into his neck. “That nickname’s taken. Use another.”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

~ * ~

Natasha knew she didn’t have time to physically check in with all the Scoobies – but she’d damned well find time to do it over the comm while she rearmed herself. She switched to their illegal channel as she slipped into Phil’s quarters. Her gear wasn’t in the armory – she’d never been comfortable allowing it to be publicly accessible. “Natasha here. Clint, Steve, Tony and I will be heading out to find and stop Loki in fifteen minutes. Before we go, I wanted updates from my fledglings. I’ll be passing them on to Clint – and Phil, when he can speak through the healing trance. I’ve already spoken to Buffy, Chuckles, and Raj. Lancelot?”

“I’m on the bridge,” he answered immediately. “With Marigold. We’re… maintaining.”

“Mmmhmm.” Natasha opened a cabinet and ran her fingers over handles of knives, deciding which ones to strap on. “Pretend you’re alone and answer me honestly.”

Lance sighed. He supposed there was no point in secrecy today. “I could use a drink – and imagine my surprise to realize that when I say that, my brain pictures some of Chief’s hot chocolate at the dojo.”

“Yeah, me too,” Angie added with a note of longing. “Goddess, yeah. And some Harry Potter. I’m okay though,” she added before Natasha could ask. “I’m in Engineering – I stuck around when Chuck finally went up to medical. I haven’t made much progress on dehacking the ship, but there’s other things to take care of, too.”

“Sam?”

“I’m still in the armory – and Clint just walked in with Lucille,” Sam added. “I don’t know where Al went, we got split up during the fighting. I’m okay too – couple new bruises, but I’ll survive. I agree with the others, I want a night at home with the family.”

If Natasha was surprised – and touched – at Sam’s open acknowledgment of them as a family, she knew better than to let it show. “As soon as we can,” Natasha promised them. “Al?”

“I am here. I am on one of the lab levels… or what used to be a lab level.” He sounded quiet, and sad. “I believe I will return to the armory.”

“No,” Misty interrupted. “I’m going to need you in Tactical. You and Lance both. We’ve got to make some calls – evacuate as much of the area around Stark Tower as possible.”

“I am not disputing your order, Buffy… but why me?” Al sounded genuinely puzzled.

Misty sighed. “Because this is too important to leave to legal channels – and I’m going to need somebody who can speak as many languages as possible. Culture societies, gang headquarters, social clubs – any organized group, I want them informed. Get them to get their people out… and if they want, turn around and pull out more people. This is going to be a giant clusterfuck.”

“Thor did say Loki had an army,” Natasha agreed slowly. “Yeah. Good plan, Buff. Get as many civilians out as you can. When Phil’s out of his trance, he can help you with contacts… I swear, the man knows every-fucking-body.”

“Counting on it, nascha.”

Natasha paused in the act of checking her Glocks. “CJ?”

“I’m here.” Strain was audible in his voice. “No visible change on Chief and pixie anymore… his wound looks all healed up, though. I’m just – watching. Guarding.”

She wished desperately that she had the time to go see him – because he sounded very young, and very scared. “Thanks, faireoir.” There was more she wanted to say, but Natasha had no idea how. “Alright. I’m for the hangar. Be safe up here and take care of each other.” She paused again, then decided on a day like today… it was foolish not to say it. “We love you all.”

The echoed responses warmed her heart – and firmed her resolve.

~ * ~


	12. Chapter 12

Steve, Clint, and Natasha met at hangar three at the appointed time, each fully kitted out for battle. “Tony will take off as soon as he sees our jet launch,” Steve said as he straightened his gloves.

“First time I’ve ever been excited to have Stark on board,” Clint drawled.

“I can hear you on the comms, you know,” Tony retorted – but he was more amused than offended.

They strode in unison up the gangplank, with Natasha and Clint flanking Steve. A junior agent – and hell, Clint thought, he looked as young as CJ – rose from the pilot’s seat.

“Sir, you are not authorized to be here – ”

“Son,” Steve said in a no-nonsense voice. “Just don’t.”

Clint whistled under his breath when the junior SHIELD agent peeled off. “Damn.” He waited until he was in the pilot’s seat and had initiated take-off procedures before glancing over his shoulder at his companions – teammates? “When you put on the Captain America voice, it’s damned near as effective as Phil’s Agent-Coulson-Is-In-Charge voice.”

Natasha snorted a laugh, but Steve looked uncomfortable. As Clint was busy piloting, it fell to Natasha to ask. “Alright… what did we miss?”

“Coulson,” Tony said through their comms, then trailed off. He wasn’t sure exactly what the two agents were to Agent Agent… other than long-term assets. It was a relief not to have to face them for this, flying alongside the jet in his suit. He didn’t like dealing with emotions… his own, or anyone else’s.

“We’re… umm…” Steve looked everywhere but at Natasha and Clint. “We’re sorry for your loss.” Catching the edge of a perplexed look he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Coulson, I mean. Fury told us that Loki… Loki killed him.”

Clint traded glances with Natasha. “Cap, I try not to argue with authority figures—”

“Bullshit,” Natasha muttered.

“—but Phil is most assuredly alive,” Clint finished, glaring at his wife. His mental tone though was amused.

Tony’s tone was doubtful. “How can you be sure?”

“Right now, I’m more sure of that than I am my own damned name,” Clint said sharply, “or hers.” He jerked a thumb at Natasha. “You got no reason to trust me, Cap, and I get that – but Phil Coulson is very much alive.”

There was a rasping noise from Tony transmitted through the comms. “Fury told us they called it.”

Steve reached into a pocket of his uniform and extracted a handful of bloody trading cards. “He showed us these.”

Natasha reached for them, shock and horror on her face. “Oh, Goddess. Phil’s going to lose his mind.” She touched the irrevocably stained card – the one of Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes together. Phil’s favorite. “Where are the covers?”

“Covers?” Steve repeated. “That’s how Director Fury handed them to me. Well. Threw them on the table. Said they were in Coulson’s jacket.”

“When I get my hands on that eye-patch wearing bastard—” Clint ground out.

“I don’t understand.” Steve held up a hand to halt Clint’s exclamation.

“These cards,” Natasha said, her fingers caressing them again. “Phil keeps them in archival grade covers inside a wooden box. I knew he brought the case with him, but even for you to sign them – Phil wouldn’t carry them around loose like that. Ever.”

“Might fox the edges,” Clint growled. “Whatever the fuck that means.” He reached for the cards, his jaw tensing as he realized – fully admitted it to himself – that it was his husband’s blood on them. They’d nearly lost Phil. If it weren’t for Catriona and Gaia… his breath hitched barely. Natasha, still holding the cards, let their fingers brush together. As she pulled away, she trailed her hand ever so briefly along his bicep.

There was a long, tense silence before Tony said, “Fury lied.”

“Fury did more than lie,” Natasha corrected, her voice quiet. 

Something in her tone made Steve shudder… but he was very confused. If Phil hadn’t been killed – why had Natasha been weeping in the medical bay? And all over another man? Misty hadn’t seemed to think there was anything strange about the pair of them being closed up in an exam room together so it was probably normal, but… 

“Can I help you with whatever tortures you’ve got planned for Fury?” Tony asked over the comm. “Because he’s been jerking me around for years but this… this is a step too far.”

Clint rubbed his chin, and the movement caused his ring to glint. Steve’s eyes zeroed in on it, and it only added to his confusion. It matched Natasha’s. It matched Phil’s. Obviously it wasn’t a wedding ring, then. Maybe it was some kind of fraternal ring? Like… oh, like the tattoos some military units got. That seemed plausible… yes, if they were part of a unit tight enough for outward symbols, that would explain the abject devotion. 

Unaware of Steve’s scrutiny, Clint answered Tony’s question. “Frankly, I think Phil will get to Fury before we do. But sure… if Mo—if he needs help, I’ll make sure you get the call.”

Natasha turned to look at Clint like she was going to retort but didn’t speak. Her eyes danced… Steve wondered if this was more of her weird ability to seemingly know all things. 

“And if you’re really nice to me, I’ll see that our pet hacker gets you a copy of the footage of Phil’s smackdown on Fury,” Clint continued blithely. “Deal?”

“I can’t be bribed,” Tony retorted – but chuckled. “Yeah. Deal.”

“Alright. What’s the plan here, then?” Clint said. “Other than find Loki and put an arrow through his eye.”

“I’m headed straight to the Tower… and if I’m lucky, I’ll get to swap out for a new suit before shit gets going,” Tony answered. “If I’m not lucky…”

Steve let the tactical possibilities fill his mind – unaware at that moment that he looked much like Tony did when he considered an engineering problem. “The longer we can stall him, the more time Misty has to get the area clear. I don’t know what kind of portal he’s planning on opening, but I’m guessing civilians aren’t going to be equipped to repel whatever army he brings through. We’re going to be devising tactics as we go.” His eyes shifted to Clint. “You’re Hawkeye, right? The sniper Misty mentioned?”

“That’s me… the Amazing Hawkeye.” Clint tipped an imaginary hat in his direction. 

“One of the top three snipers in the world,” Natasha added, offering Clint a smile that Steve couldn’t interpret. 

“Right. So if we get you line of sight – you good for overwatch?”

“That’s my usual bag.” Clint flipped a toggle on the console, glancing back at Steve. “Stark – ”

Tony made a rude noise. “I think you can call me Tony. We’re trying to stop a demigod from taking over the world, doesn’t that give us first name basis?”

“Tony, then – can you drop me on a high height… somewhere with lots of Sunshine?”

That made Natasha smile – for absolutely no reason that Steve could divine. He wished he could ask Misty – her friends were incredibly confusing. He had no doubt that they were capable agents… but damn, it was like watching a movie with only half the dialogue.

“When we get where we’re going, sure. In the meantime… hang tight, kids. I’m going to check in at the penthouse.”

Natasha slid her eyes sideways to Clint again, her lips quirking. “At least he didn’t call us fledglings.”

~ * ~

Phil regained consciousness slowly. The first thing he was aware of was Catriona’s hands still on his chest… followed by a vague awareness that she was covered in quite a lot of blood. His blood, he presumed – it went nearly to her elbows, and she’d managed to smear it on her face as well. His poor pixie looked exhausted and heartsick.

“You need sleep, little one,” Phil murmured, and lifted a hand to brush her curls back from her face.

Catriona startled, her eyes flying to his. “You are awake!”

“Against all odds, yes.”

She flung her arms around him, buried her head in the crook of his neck, and began to weep.

He should have expected that, really – the combination of exhaustion and emotion would likely make her volatile for some time. He did not particularly expect to have a second body impact his against the bulkhead.

“Patrarc!” CJ gasped. He wormed his way into an embrace on the opposite side of Phil’s torso, managing not to dislodge Catriona.

It was like being covered in a shivering blanket of affection, Phil thought to himself. “It’s me, faireoir. I’m alright.” Phil pressed CJ’s head down against his shoulder and turned to kiss the young man’s temple. “All fixed up and newly Goddess-bound.”

“He – he – he – killed you,” CJ managed to choke out against Phil’s neck. “I wa-watched him k-k-kill you.”

“He didn’t kill me all the way, kiddo,” Phil soothed. “You got Catriona here in time. I might have been down to one hit point, but she’s best healer in the biz, yeah?” He tugged CJ closer. He knew they needed to get to work – there was always work to be done – but at the moment, this took priority. 

Phil wasn’t sure how long it took to calm them both. It was frankly amazing that they hadn’t been interrupted… perhaps CJ had successfully scared enough people off earlier that they were giving this section a wide berth. 

“The other Scoobies need hugs too,” CJ said finally, pulling away. “Everybody’s gathering in Tactical. Steve asked Misty to coordinate the evacuation around Stark Tower.”

“Right.” Phil eased Catriona off him and then worked to get all three of them standing. His suit was an absolute disaster – unsurprising, really. “Do I have time to change?”

“If you don’t, Misty’s going to have hysterics,” CJ advised. “She might not be the only one.” Seeing how weak Catriona was, CJ slid his arm around her as they walked the corridors towards Phil’s quarters.

Agents scurrying by stopped to stare. The first time, Phil ignored it. The second, he stopped in the middle of the passageway and contacted his spouses. {Why am I being looked at like a ghost?}

{Funny you’d use that word,} Clint said drily. Phil could sense he was still piloting – the Quinjet must not have reached Stark Tower yet. {Fury told everyone you’re dead. Steve and Tony sure as hell thought you were – and Moonbeam… he…}

{Stole your Cap cards out of your locker, dipped them in your blood, and threw them on the table in front of Steve to motivate him,} Natasha finished.

Phil sucked in a breath. {That fucker.} It took another breath for his rage to subside enough to speak logically. {It wasn’t my blood. CJ never let him get that close to me.}

{Oh, ew.} Clint shuddered – and it somehow communicated telepathically. {Goddess, that’s disgusting.}

Phil opened his eyes again – talking to his spouses was easier with them closed – and looked at CJ. “They think I’m dead?”

CJ nodded. “Fury said over an open comm that you were down… that they’d called it.”

“Well.” Phil squared his shoulders. “I suppose that means no one will call me and interrupt while I’m working. Let’s get this done.”

It took only a few more minutes to change into a clean suit – but when he removed both tattered shirt and undershirt, he discovered a shiny, pink scar on his chest. “Huh.” He rubbed curious fingers over it. “Nat and Clint don’t have scars from their Choosing injuries, do they?”

“No.” Even Catriona’s voice sounded weary. “But neither of them were healed at this altitude – or complicated by foreign magic. I am sorry, treorai. I did the best that I could.”

“Oh, little one, no.” Phil paused in his redressing to press a kiss to her forehead. “It was an observation, not a criticism.” But he tucked away her reaction – such shame needed to be dealt with before it festered. Just not, he reasoned as he buttoned a clean shirt, until after the current mess.

Catriona clung to CJ, limpet-like, and they both watched him as though fearing he would disappear. Phil didn’t object – he could see they were hanging on to their composure by the barest of margins. 

Given their reactions when he’d woken, Phil was braced when he stepped into Tactical – and good thing, too. In seconds he had Misty clinging to him. To his surprise, Raj claimed a hug next, followed by a slow-moving Chuck. Lance crept closer and seemed to waffle on it a bit before taking his turn. Angie had no such hesitation, flinging herself at him with complete abandon before backing off to hang off Chuck instead. Phil gestured imperiously and gave both Sam and Al brief embraces, though neither of them were entirely relaxed. “Alright, kids.” He brushed his hand over whatever hair he could reach, kissed forehead and squeezed shoulders. “I’m alright, I promise – and we’ve got a job to do.”

“Right.” Misty wasn’t eager to release him, but she knew duty called – after all, Nat and Clint were out there fighting still. “I’ve started making calls to get the evacuations rolling officially… and we’re doing some unofficially as well. Al’s calling a long list of organized crime contacts – ” She broke off with a yawn.

“Smart.” Phil smoothed a hand down Misty’s blonde hair. “But we can do better. Start me a list,” he ordered Lance. “Write it up on the board. We’ll take five minutes to brainstorm before we dive back in… and yes, there will be cuddles while we think.” 

Lance grabbed a handful of dry-erase markers, tossing one to Angie for her to work on the other side of the board. On his side he listed legal channels – on hers, illegal ones.

“Jesus,” Misty said, covering her nose. “Lance, there’s something wrong with your marker.”

He looked down at it. “Umm… it’s just dry-erase.”

“No, it’s – ” she blinked, raising her hand to her mouth. “Angie’s is fine, yours is not.”

“Buffy, that’s… they’re the same kind of…” Lance started to protest.

Chuck rolled his eyes and yanked the marker out of Lance’s hand, replacing it with another. “Here. This one’s brand name. Same as Angie’s. Wanna bet the cricket’s got expensive taste?”

Phil started to laugh and reached to pull Misty against his side. “I love you all.” He kissed her temple, still chuckling. “Alright. Let’s see what we can do to clear the path for our Warriors.”

~ * ~

Tony was already cursing under his breath when he approached the Tower. It was hard to miss the contraption Selvig was working on – harder yet to miss the glow of the Tesseract. A larger part of himself than he wanted to admit resented that Loki had chosen this place – had planted his own mark on Stark Tower. This was his masterpiece, damn it. How dare that bastard besmirch it?

“Sir, I already turned off the arc reactor,” JARVIS intoned. “The device is already self-sustaining.”

Figures, Tony thought to himself. “Shut it down, Doctor Selvig.”

“It’s too late!” the astrophysicist called up to him. “She can’t stop now. She wants to show us something! A new universe.”

“Ooookay.” The man was clearly a little demented… but given that Agent Barton – Clint – had been unLokied, there was obviously some kind of cure. Tony wasn’t sure what that was or how it worked… but Steve had trusted the archer to join their merry band, so Tony would roll with it.

He leveled a repulsor at the apparatus and fired… which did not have the desired result. “The barrier is pure energy,” JARVIS reported. “It’s unbreachable.”

“Shit,” Tony groaned. “Okay. New plan. Roll out the next autobot, J.”

“Sir, the Mark VII is not ready to be deployed.”

“Then skip the spinning rims, we’re on the clock!” He landed the suit – shakily, given its damage – on the disassembling platform. It began to remove pieces, leaving him in the tight flight suit he preferred to wear under it. “Echo my comm to the team, J,” Tony ordered before the faceplate was removed. He could see Loki on the opposite side of the balcony, and they entered the penthouse in unison. Tony had to fight the urge to flee.

Tony strolled behind the bar for two reasons – to put Loki at ease, and because the bracelets for the Mark VII were on the counter behind the bar. Unfortunately, it put him squarely in the middle of his greatest temptation… and fuck, did he want a drink right now. What would it matter, if he fell off the wagon today? The way it looked, there might not be a damned wagon to be on tomorrow.

His eyes flickered about the room and landed on a pair of champagne flutes. Unleaded champagne – which Pepper hated the taste of but tolerated because she was a supportive girlfriend. Tony could do this – he could resist the siren’s call of liquor long enough to kick this arrogant, overdressed asshole’s ass… and then get his own ass to a fucking meeting.

“Please tell me you’re going to appeal to my humanity,” Loki purred.

Tony kept the eyeroll internal. “Uh… actually, I’m planning to threaten you.”

Loki smirked. “You should have left your armor on for that.”

“Yeah, it’s seen a bit of mileage… and you’ve got the glow stick of destiny.”

Over the comm, Clint let out a low whistle. “That’s it, I’m keeping him. You didn’t tell me he was good with words, Nat.”

Tony ignored them – but there was a little bit of amusement growing. He hadn’t gotten to meet Clint face-to-face yet… but his gut said they’d get along. “Would you like a drink?” he said to Loki… the picture of a host. 

“Stalling me won’t change anything.”

“No, no, no! Threatening!” Tony corrected with a teasing wave of his hand. “No drink? You sure? I’m having one.” God, he wished he was. But the act of reaching for a bottle and pouring hid him slipping the bracelets on.

“The Chitauri are coming,” Loki growled. “Nothing will change that. What have I to fear?”

There was a strange note to Loki’s voice… something that Tony promised himself he’d analyze later… at some point when he wasn’t contemplating an invasion. “The Avengers,” he quipped instead. The demigod regarded him blankly. “It’s what we call ourselves… sort of like a team.” He gestured with a glass that unfortunately held nothing more potent than colored water. “Earth’s mightiest heroes type of thing.”

A smug smile grew on Loki’s face – and for a half second, Tony had to consider how attractive the damned Asgardian was. Were they all like that, or was it a royal family thing? But then, Loki was adopted, wasn’t he? Tony pushed that aside as Loki sneered, “Yes, I’ve met them.”

“Yeah, it takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one.” And, Tony suspected, some distance from the damned glow stick of destiny – because as soon as Loki had taken the fucking scepter off the helicarrier, he’d been able to look at Steve as a man instead of an action figure. “But let’s do a head count here. Your brother, the demigod; a supersoldier – a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend; a man with breathtaking anger management issues; a couple of master assassins… and you, big fella… you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

“That was the plan.”

Tony snorted. “Not a great plan.” He swirled the drink – non-drink, really – in his hand. “When they come… and they will… they’ll come for you.”

“I have an army,” Loki purred.

“We have a Hulk.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Oh, I thought the beast had wandered off.”

Tony objected to that on several levels. Bruce wasn’t a beast – and he hadn’t wandered off like a disobeying puppy. Something Loki had done had broken the doctor’s control – which meant Loki was as responsible for Bruce’s absence as he was for Coulson’s alleged death. “You’re missing the point. There’s no throne. There is no version of this where you come out on top.” He shifted out from behind the bar. “Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us… but it’s all on you. Because if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we’ll avenge it.”

Seeing a demigod with almost a hundred kills to his name stroll forward in his direction was highly alarming, Tony thought – but seeing that scepter raised in his direction was worse. “How will your friends have time for me, when they’re so busy fighting you?” And he tapped the scepter on Tony’s chest… right on the arc reactor. Tony wished he could close his eyes in relief. “This usually works.”

“Well, performance issues,” Tony quipped. “It’s not uncommon. One out of five—”

In answer, Loki seized him by the throat and pitched him across the room. Tony hit the floor hard. “JARVIS…” he murmured. “Anytime now.”

Loki grabbed him a second time. “You will all fall before me,” he snarled – and then tossed Tony through the glass window.

“Deploy! Fucking hell,” Tony groaned. He held out his arms, Vitruvian man style, as the Mark VII sped out of the penthouse, locked onto his bracelets, and enveloped him. He avoided crashing into the ground by a very narrow margin. He flew back up to level with Loki, now almost seething. “Something you should learn about humanity, Reindeer Games – we get knocked down, but we get up again.”

Loki raised the scepter at the same time Tony leveled a repulsor at him. Tony fired first, knocking Loki back. He might have considered that a victory – until his attention was pulled to the machine Selvig was manning – and the beam it shot up into the sky.

The sky… boiled. That was the only way Tony could think to describe it. The portal spawned in the center of a roiling mass of Tesseract-blue, and through it came – creatures. Lots of them. On some sort of flying craft. They were like nothing he’d ever seen, and they just – kept coming. “Right. Army.” The HUD switched to advanced tactical mode and Tony took a deep breath – because this was definitely going to be one hell of a fight.

In his shock – and growing dismay – it didn’t occur to Tony to summon help. Some part of him knew that Steve, Clint, and Natasha were on the QuinJet nearby – but he was too accustomed to fighting battles alone. If Rhodey had been in the same zip code, Tony might have called out for him – but right now, he was operating solo… well, with JARVIS.

As weapon after weapon failed to stop the oncoming targets, Tony was beginning to think he wouldn’t be enough.

~ * ~


	13. Chapter 13

Phil didn’t know how Angie had managed to get them data linkups again – wasn’t sure he’d understand her answer even if he asked. Between her and Lance, they had cobbled together screens full of CCTV footage, and each of the Scoobies was listening to different communications channels to coordinate the massive amount of information being exchanged between groups on the ground.

All of that meant that when a rift in space opened, they knew about it immediately.

“Right.” Phil clears his throat. “An army. From outer space.”

“I mean, we kind of knew that,” Angie mutters.

“Don’t yuck his yum, little mouse,” Lance retorted, grinning. “He wanted to quote Steve.”

Phil shot them a look. “Thank you for attempting to lighten the mood, but this is rather serious. Angela Grace! Get me the Secretary of Defense.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Angie saluted before going back to her keyboard. “You know Fury’s probably already been on the horn to him, right?”

A dangerous smile spread on Phil’s face. “I’m sure he has. I can be a bit more persuasive.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Misty said under her breath. “Alright – while Phil talks to the Powers that Be… Catriona, Al – I want you on loudspeakers every-fucking-where. Repeat the evacuation order in every language you know. I don’t want an immigrant family or tourist to wind up wandering into the line of fire just because they didn’t understand us. Lance, can you get them access to the PA systems, or is that more Angie’s speed?”

“I can manage.” Lance was typing rapidly at his own keyboard. “Pixie, grab a headset and start reciting the message, I’ll loop each language and start broadcasting them. How many do you know?”

Catriona took a headset from Al, slipping it onto her left ear. “More languages than are currently spoken on the planet – though I will limit myself to those most likely to be heard in your fair city.”

“I am fluent in two dozen,” Al supplied, hooking an identical earpiece to his ear. “I shall tap the mic twice between languages to indicate the break.”

“Good.” Misty waved them off to the side where they could work in relative quiet. No one really wanted to split up, though it might have been smarter to use different workspaces. “Raj, you get through to all the hospitals?”

Their medic nodded, scrubbing his face with one hand. “Every major hospital and all the med schools for good measure. I was thinking VA clinics next? Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

“No, that sounds good.” Misty checked the board again, one ear open listening to Phil’s discussion with SecDef. It didn’t sound all that friendly. “Chuckles, you get through to your old unit?”

“Got through and passed the word along. Flynn sent out a message – it’ll have gotten forwarded on.” Chuck’s answer was half-distracted, as he was monitoring several video feeds as well as a military comm channel. “Right now, every Marine that ever called me Sergeant and is within ten miles of New York is gearing up to fight.”

“Word’s gotten to other vets,” CJ added. “Hearing chatter on the CB radio.”

Phil had finished his phone conversation just in time to hear that comment from CJ. “Damn, why did it have to be New York?” he griped, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. “Had to be the city with the strictest gun laws. Couldn’t have been… oh… Texas. Aliens invade Texas, I’d have had plenty of civilian volunteers to add to the ranks. Or Alaska! Even better. Lots of guns, not a lot of urban infrastructure to be damaged.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that to the alien overlord,” Misty said drily. “Make sure he picks a better target next time.”

“See that you do.” Phil squeezed her shoulder briefly. “Alright – armed forces have been alerted, including some embedded alphabet agency agents that we officially know nothing about. FBI and DEA undercover agents are blowing covers where they can do so – they’ll get more people out. No sense keeping a case court ready if there’s no court to try them in tomorrow.”

“We should be down there.” Sam was actually wringing her hands, watching the army of Chitauri fill the streets. “I should – I should be out there with Natasha and Clint, that’s what – ”

Phil covered her hands with one of his own. “No, Sam.” His voice was firm, but kind. “This battle is beyond you – beyond us. This is for the Avengers and the Warriors of Gaia. We’re outclassed. The best we can do is to make it easier for them to do what needs to be done.” 

“How are you so fucking calm?” Sam’s voice broke.

“I’m not.” Phil’s fingers tightened on her hands. “My husband and wife are out there, and I can’t be. I know it doesn’t seem like it, dainsearach damhsoir—” she jolted a little, because it was rare for him to use her Gaelic name, “but we’re needed here. Besides,” he added drily, “I’m fairly certain we’d just be a distraction, adding another aircraft to that mess.”

“It’s the zen sensei voodoo chief crap,” Misty said wisely, tucking her arm around Sam. “And damn, saying that makes me miss Cuz.”

Phil laughed. “Clint misses you too, grasshopper. He and Nat are nearly to Stark Tower, though – I’m trying not to pester them telepathically.” There were several looks passed between the Scoobies, and Phil sighed. “Alright. As we do this next batch of calls, I’ll explain the Guardian thing.”

~ * ~

Mjolnir led Thor straight to Loki – straight to Stark Tower. The blond demigod landed beside his brother, hammer still at the ready.

“Brother!” Thor called. “Turn off the Tesseract, or I’ll destroy it.”

“You can’t,” Loki shot back. “There is no stopping it.”

Thor shook his head slowly, his eyes boring into Loki’s. “Do you realize the ill you have wrought today, brother?”

“Is it your turn to appeal to my humanity? Your flighty Man of Iron has already tried.”

“He knows not that which I tell you now.” Thor planted himself firmly on his feet and squared his shoulders. “The man that you stabbed – the man that you killed. His name was Agent Phil Coulson – ”

“ – I care nothing for the life of one mortal – ”

“ – and he was Lady Catriona’s clanchief.”

Shocked silence met that pronouncement, and Thor thought he saw the stirrings of something in Loki’s eyes. “Clanchief? Are you certain?”

“Aye. She introduced him thusly, and when I offered my vow of service to her… she put me under his charge.” Thor’s hand flexed on Mjolnir’s handle. “Congratulations, brother. You have done more than incite the wrath of Midgardian mortals. You have earned the enmity of the High Priestess of Gaia and, one can presume, that of Gaia Herself.”

Loki’s jaw worked soundlessly. “I have no time to ruminate upon the vagaries of a planetary deity. There is no time for such musings. There is only the war.”

“So be it.” 

They came together with a crash, Loki’s scepter against Mjolnir. It was a closer battle than Thor remembered – something in Loki’s absence had caused him to fight with more fire… more desperation. It was still not an even fight, for Thor had spent centuries perfecting his craft. He pinned Loki, forcing him to look out over the city as the Chitauri poured through the portal. “Look at this! Look around you!” His voice rang with command. “You think this madness will end with your rule?”

Loki struggled against his hold. His eyes, burning with Aesir blue, met Thor’s. There were emotions Thor could not name in them. “It’s too late,” Loki breathed. “It’s too late to stop it.”

“No.” Thor’s voice broke. “We can – together.” Hope flooded the blond demigod as Loki hesitated – 

– only to feel the sharp sting of a blade piercing his side. Thor dropped to the floor, stung more by the betrayal than the injury.

“Sentiment,” Loki sneered, leering over him.

Thor kicked out, knocking his brother’s feet out from under him. Ignoring the pain in his side, Thor lifted Loki up over his head and slammed him down, hard. Loki rolled off the edge of the building – and Thor caught his breath – but the trickster dropped onto a flying chariot driven by Chitauri, and sped off towards the larger battle.

~ * ~

“Tony!” Clint called into the comm. “We’re almost to you, heading north east.”

“What, did you stop for drive-thru?” Tony snarked – to cover the almost orgasmic relief he felt, realizing he wasn’t actually doing this alone. He’d completely forgotten his teammates, neglected to factor in that he wasn’t trying to stop an alien invasion single-handed. “Swing up Park, I’m gonna lay ‘em out for you.”

Natasha lowered the QuinJet’s machine gun and – as Clint piloted – took aim on several of the flying machines. On the ground, she could see civilians, soldiers, and law enforcement officers spreading out to cover the ground. {Good job on rallying the foot,} Natasha told Phil – though she included Clint in the comment.

{Thank you. The Scoobies are doing good work getting everyone organized – would you believe Raj had connections with the biggest cocaine runner in the city? There’s two hundred armed gang-bangers reporting to an NYPD detective about six blocks from you.} Phil was amused – but distracted.

“Sir, we have more incoming,” JARVIS told Tony.

“Fine. Let’s keep them occupied.” Tony sped the suit back towards the portal.

{When this is over, I want to buy Tony a drink,} Clint told his spouses. {Maybe a lot of drinks.}

{Better make it coffee, pretty bird – he quit drinking after the Battle of Stark Expo.}

Clint hummed thoughtfully. {I’ll be damned. I guess old dogs can learn new tricks.}

Afterwards, no one would be sure if it was Clint’s distraction or a lucky hit by a Chitauri – but the QuinJet took a significant hit and began to spiral out of control. “Sonofabitch,” Clint muttered. “Nat! Brace yourself!”

“This had sure as fuck not be like the last time,” Natasha muttered. She scrambled to help Steve find something safe to clutch as the QuinJet moved wildly. Somehow – Natasha never could remember – they managed to slam into the street with little damage to themselves.

“Better than the jungle,” Clint muttered to Natasha as they unclipped their harnesses. They – and Steve – ran down the ramp of the QuinJet and onto the street.

They were getting their bearings when the city… stilled. If Natasha had not known better, she’d have thought they were drifting to the astral plane again – but it did not last long enough. Some impulse had her looking up at the portal as a deep, resonant bellow filled the air.

A leviathan flew through the portal.

“Okay. That’s new.” Clint tilted his head up to look at the… monster? Creature? “Oh, and it gets better. Fantastic,” he bit out as more Chitauri soldiers leapt off the monster, adding to the chaos.

“Tony, are you seeing this?” Steve asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

“Seeing,” Tony answered. “Still working on believing.” He almost wished he could blame this particular vision on drugs – because he’d have given a hell of a lot for this to be a hallucination. Tony allowed himself the briefest weakness – closing his eyes for a moment – before he forced himself to shove emotion aside. “Where’s Bruce? Has he shown up yet?”

“Banner?” Steve repeated, blinking.

“How many other Bruces are invited to this shindig, Captain?” Tony blew out a breath. “Just keep me posted. I’m gonna see if I can find a weak spot on this… giant… space turtle thing. JARVIS! Find me a soft spot.”

On foot, the trio of Steve, Natasha, and Clint surveyed the scene. Loki was firing blasts towards the bridge fifty yards from them – and there were significant numbers of civilians trapped. “Those people need assistance down there,” Steve said, pointing.

Several Chitauri soldiers landed nearby, facing Natasha and Clint. “We got this,” Natasha assured Steve. “It’s good. Go!”

“You think you can hold them off?” Steve asked – mostly directed at Clint. He didn’t doubt that Natasha could. Given what little he’d seen so far – and the absolute unwavering faith Misty had in her – he was fairly sure she could stop the invasion herself if she had to.

“Captain,” Clint smiled – a wolfish, predatory expression. “It would be my genuine pleasure.” He let loose an arrow at an alien creature, disabling it and buying Steve a few extra seconds to leap over the debris and head down the bridge.

{Clint, there’s a bus here,} Natasha informed him telepathically as they fired at the invaders. {There’s kids.}

{Right.} Clint took out two more alien soldiers and swung his bow over his back. {Cover me, I’ll get them out.} He ducked a blast from those weird Chitauri weapons – briefly thinking how fucking weird today was – and darted for the bus. Upon seeing help arrive, several parents were pushing their children out of windows.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna get you all out,” Clint promised. He carefully lowered the children down to the ground, then turned to speak to the oldest one – a boy of about six. “Hang on to them all, okay? You guys stay right there, I’m going to get the grown-ups out. Can you do that for me, kiddo?” The boy nodded solemnly, reaching to hold the hands of two of the other children. “Good man.” Satisfied, Clint moved down the bus to the jammed doors and hauled on them. They didn’t budge. {Gaia – any chance I could get a little voodoo boost here to get these open?}

\\\Of course, my Archer.// Clint felt fresh strength surge into his arms, and the doors of the bus yielded to him. \\\And may I say, it is a pleasure to have your mind as mine once more.//

{Amen to that, Mama.} Clint made sure the adults and remaining children were out of the bus, glancing around for where to send them. {Nat – we got a destination for civilians?}

It wasn’t his wife that answered – it was their husband. {Send them underground – basements or subway. If they choose to keep moving, head south. We’re setting up triage and care stations at most subway stations – but the biggest are at Penn Station and at Bellevue.}

{Damn, you’re sexy when you’re efficient,} Clint shot back, grinning. “Alright! Head to a subway or a basement,” he shouted to the civilians. “If you take the subway, make for Penn Station.”

That task done, Clint returned to his place beside his wife, slid Lucille back into his hands, and began to fire arrows at the aliens. 

“Just like Budapest all over again!” Natasha shouted to Clint, a half-grin on her face.

He shook his head, amused. “You and I remember Budapest very differently.”

Tony, flying along side the alien space turtle, was struck with an almost painful need to know more.

~ * ~

Steve heard the cops before he saw them – before they saw him. Even if he hadn’t been able to make out the words, he recognized the tone – they were outgunned, and knew it. God, he remembered that feeling… it had been a long time, since before Rebirth, but he’d had that gut-wrenching sensation before. There would be no Bucky to sweep in with a swift upper cut and supportive had this time, though.

“We need to get out! They gotta bring the National Guard!”

“National Guard?! Does the army know what’s happening here?”

“Do we?”

Steve leapt to the top of a stalled car – serving as a barrier – and look at the police officers. He waited a beat, but neither of them pulled a weapon. Good. He’d lean on the weight of the uniform, then. “I need men in these buildings.” He gestured. “There are people inside and they’re going to be running into the line of fire. You take them to the basements or through the subway –keep them off the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th.”

The older police officer – and it stuck Steve to the bone to realize those were sergeant’s stripes on his sleeve – bristled. “Why the hell should I take orders from you?”

Great. Of all the times for his fame to fail him – Steve had really been hoping the uniform would do the trick. He started to justify it somehow – he had no idea how – but was derailed entirely by the arrival of two Chitauri foot soldiers. It was a swift battle – not even aliens were immune to the shield. Enemies dispatched, Steve turned back to the sergeant – no, can’t think of him like that, can’t let himself feel emotion right now.

“I need men in those buildings,” the officer turned his back on Steve and began commanding his men. “Lead the people down and away from the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th.”

Steve blew out a relieved breath and turned to race back to Natasha and Clint.

“Shit,” Tony said over the comms as the leviathan he’d been shadowing – and attempting to disable – turned on him. “We got his attention – what the hell is step two?”

“We’ve got to talk about your tactical plans,” Steve sighed. “First it’s ‘oh, I have a plan, it’s attack’ and now it’s ‘let me get the attention of the big-ass monster without knowing what to do with it’…”

There was a long silence over the comms before Tony started to laugh. “Alright, I earned that one, Spangles.”

The hand-to-hand battle the trio was fighting got more intense. Clint wasn’t able to keep firing arrows – not with as close as they were coming in. He switched to melee combat, although he tended to use arrows still… one straight down the gullet of a Chitauri fighter disabled it just fine.

Before things could get too desperate there was the briefest hint of ozone in the air, followed by a clap of thunder and a lightning strike – right in the center of the cluster of Chitauri that were overwhelming them. {Damn Asgardians. Always gotta make a big entrance,} Clint shot to Natasha.

Thor landed before them, his red cape fluttering around his ankles. He met Natasha’s eyes first – then Clint’s. Before he shifted his attention to Steve, he bowed formally to both Warriors. “My heart grieves with thee, for the loss of your achroi ghra.”

Natasha’s eyebrows shot up. “Phil’s fine.” Her eyes slid to Steve’s, not sure what to say in front of him. But Misty trusted him, so… “Catriona got to him in time.”

“Are you certain?” Thor’s eyes went wide. “No, of course. You would not prevaricate about such a thing. Has he been Chosen, then?”

Clint was gathering arrows from the nearest corpses. “Yup, as a new flavor – Guardian. He’s bound to Catriona, kind of as her handler. Keeper.” He tilted his head at the Asgardian. “We haven’t met yet. Clint Barton. Hawkeye.” His eyes shot to Steve. “Boghdoir Barton, Warrior of Gaia.” And in a strangely elegant move, he echoed Thor’s bow.

Steve looked between them, his brow furrowed. That sounded… important. All of it did. But there wasn’t time to consider it right now – no matter how curious he was. (And damn, was he curious. These friends of Misty’s were absolutely baffling. Steve liked them, but he’d like them a lot more if they weren’t so damned confusing.) “Can we table the formalities for another time?”

“Of course,” Thor agreed immediately, inclining his head. He was shaken b the knowledge that Chief Coulson was alive – but that meant he was still reporting to the man. By the lack of surprise on the Captain’s face, Steve had already known this fact. Thor had witness Chief Coulson directing this man, and it was logical for the Chief to be in command of the Warriors Natasha and Clint… so Thor decided he, too, would follow the Captain’s orders.

“What’s the story upstairs?” Steve asked, gesturing at the portal.

“The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable,” Thor rumbled.

“Thor’s right,” Tony agreed on the comms. “We gotta deal with these guys.”

Natasha shifted on her feet, looking up at the sky – filled with alien aircraft. “How do we do this?”

Steve squared his shoulders, visibly assuming the mantle of command. “As a team.”

{Please tell me somebody got that on video, because Phil’s gonna cream—} Clint sent to his wife, then flinched. {I wonder how long it’ll be before I remember that you can hear me, Phil.}

Thankfully, their husband was merely amused by that. {I wonder how long it’ll be before I’m used to being the recipient of all your asides. I didn’t realize how often you and Natasha banter silently. It’s… I like being a part of it.}

{Oh, loverling,} and Natasha’s mental voice was thick with emotion, {we like having you there, too.}

“I have unfinished business with Loki,” Thor rumbled.

“Yeah?” Clint met the demigod’s eyes. “Get in line.”

“Save it,” Steve ordered. “Loki’s gonna keep this fight focused on us and that’s what we need. Without him, these things could run wild. We got Tony up top, he’s gonna need us – ”

Further orders were interrupted by the soft putt-putt of an aged motorbike pulling up… driven by Bruce Banner. “So… this all seems horrible.” He parked the bike and dismounted.

“We’ve seen worse,” Natasha said, meeting his eyes.

“Sorry.”

“No.” Natasha shook her head. “No apologies needed, Bruce. That was Loki – or the scepter – not you. Besides…” she gestured at the leviathan in the sky above them. “We could use a little worse.”

Steve hid a smile. “Tony? We got him.”

“Bruce?” Tony would have done a jig if he hadn’t been trying to outfly an alien monster.

“Just like you said.”

“Then tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow in the direction of the beast. “I don’t see how that’s a party.”

As Tony swooped down, leading the leviathan closer to ground level and to his teammates, Bruce began to walk in its direction. Steve cleared his throat. “Bruce… now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

Bruce looked back over his shoulder and smiled. “That’s the secret, Captain… it isn’t about anger.” Releasing his hold on his otherself, Bruce began to swell and ripple, transforming into the massive Hulk as the Chitauri beast drew near. Hulk drove his fists into the maw of the monster, stopping it dead in the street and causing it to flip end-over-end. 

Tony darted to the side to hit the creature with a massive repulsor blast. It couldn’t survive the combined attack of Hulk and Iron Man. There were screams of pain from the Chitauri soldiers, and sizzling bits of what Tony really wished he didn’t identify as alien flesh began to rain down on them. Steve covered himself and Natasha with the shield to avoid being drenched in viscera. 

It would have been lovely to contemplate their victory over the leviathan – but they did not get the chance. The portal writhed again, and from it spawned hundreds – thousands – more Chitauri soldiers… and dozens of the massive leviathans.

“By the Goddess,” Natasha breathed, looking up at the sky. That seemed to sum up the feeling of everyone on the ground.

Tony cleared his throat, hovering near his teammates. “Call it, Cap.”

“Alright.” Steve took a deep breath. Leading his men had been easier with Bucky by his side… it felt odd to take charge without his sergeant. “Listen up. Until we close that portal up there, we’re gonna focus on containment. Clint – I want you on that roof,” he pointed, “eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays.” It wasn’t difficult to pick a good vantage point, not for Steve – he just picked the place Bucky would have wanted his sniper nest. “Tony, you’ve got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash.”

“Could use that lift now, Tony,” Clint said. “You mind?”

“Right.” Tony lowered himself closer, looking for a suitable handhold. Clint indicated a strap across his back. “Better clench up, Legolas.”

{Like I’ve never been called that before,} Clint snarked to Natasha and Phil. {I expected more originality.}

{He’s under a fair amount of pressure, pretty bird,} was Phil’s amused reply. {I’m sure he’ll do better.}

“Thor, you’ve gotta try and bottleneck that portal. Slow them down,” Steve continued. “You’ve got the lightning. Light the bastards up.” Thor nodded a respectful acknowledgement and whirled Mjolnir around his head, taking off into the sky. Steve turned his attention to Natasha. “You and me, we stay here on the ground – keep the fighting here. And Hulk?” He pointed in the direction of the enemy. “Smash.”

Hulk let out a rumbling laugh and leapt into the air, climbing buildings like they were jungle gyms. He plucked Chitauri off buildings, crumpled them, and discarded the limp bodies with joyous abandon. Natasha watched him for a moment and was reminded of both the raw power and inherent grace in the so-called monster. Hulk purposely veered away from civilians. The aliens he dropped were never tossed in a direction that Hulk could not see – never sent into unsuspecting refugees. It was oddly impressive, and directly at odds with what she had been told about the Hulk.

Thor flew up to the Empire State Building, anchoring himself on the spire and calling forth a massive bolt of lightning. He waited for it to build to cataclysmic levels before sending it careening towards the portal. Hundreds of Chitauri soldiers and a leviathan were caught in the blast, dying almost instantly.

They were – at least for the moment – holding their own… but each of the six Avengers knew that it was temporary.

~ * ~


	14. Chapter 14

Maria drew in a deep breath before walking up to Fury. The director was watching the destruction of New York City on one of the monitors, his face unreadable. “Sir.” She waited for his eye to meet hers. “The council is on.”

Fury scowled. “I’ll take it privately.”

She nodded, and personally coded the call to the small ‘ready room’ just off the bridge. Then… though it was a violation of procedure and possible of her security clearance, Maria found a tiny alcove inside the room to observe the director’s conference call with the World Security Council.

“Director Fury,” one of the shadowed figures began – a woman, which mildly surprised Maria. “The Council has made a decision.”

“I recognize the council has made a decision – but given that it’s a stupid ass decision, I’ve elected to ignore it.”

Maria might not like Fury, but she had to admit the man had balls.

A second council member spoke. “Director, you’re closer than any of our subs. You scramble that jet—”

“That is the island of Manhattan, Councilman,” Fury barked. “Until I’m certain my team can’t hold it, I will not order a nuclear strike against a civilian population.”

Maria’s eyes flew wide, and she had to work not to gasp. Nuclear strike – that was – that would be – fuck. Double fuck. She pulled her personal cell phone out of her pocket and sent a message to Phil’s private phone – because this was not something she could keep quiet. No matter if Fury wanted to arrest her for leaking confidential information or court martial her – there was no chance she was going to keep this private from her clanchief.

“If we don’t hold them in the air, we lose everything,” the council woman insisted. One of the men who hadn’t spoken – a man in dark green robes that looked vaguely familiar to Maria – shifted uncomfortably on screen but didn’t interrupt. 

Fury’s expression hardened. “I send that bird out, we’ve already lost.”

Maria waited for him to sever the connection and stride away before she allowed herself a deep breath. She didn’t return to the bridge. Taking a back way, she snuck to the Tactical room. She had to knock – apparently the Scoobies had decided to lock it – but Lance finally opened it to allow her in. She strode directly to Misty, wrapping her arms around the squad leader. “Tell me the Council won’t do it,” she begged Phil over Misty’s shoulder. “Tell me Fury’s refusal ends it.”

Phil rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I wish I could.” 

Misty burrowed into Maria’s warmth. “What do we do if – ”

“They’d have to send it in by air – and we’ve got two fliers in the fight. We’d handle it, grasshopper,” Phil promised. He wasn’t sure entirely how, but… “If it comes to that, we’ll handle it.”

~ * ~

Clint didn’t exactly want to admit it – but he was having a fucking blast shooting aliens. Yeah, sure – they were facing the most serious threat to humanity in his lifetime and probably a hell of a lot longer – but it was also the most fun he’d had in years. {The only thing better would be if CJ was up here with me,} Clint told his spouses. {We could keep score, like Legolas and Gimli.}

{I am telling CJ you cast him as Gimli,} Phil teased. 

{Hey, I’m the one with the bow! I get to be Legolas!} Clint chuckled a little as he took out more Chitauri, including a shot that tickled his fancy – a kill shot without looking. “Tony… you’ve got a lot of strays sniffing your tail.”

Tony huffed in annoyance over the comms. “Just trying to keep ‘em off the streets.”

“Well, they can’t bank worth a damn.” Clint picked off another flyer. “Find a tight corner.”

“I will roger that.” Tony grinned inside his helmet, darting into a parking garage and winding around it. Clint was right – apparently maneuverability was not one of their strong suits. By the time he flew out of the parking structure, he’d disabled all the fighters following him. “Nice call. What else you got?”

“Well, Thor’s taking on a squadron down on 6th.” 

“And he didn’t invite me?” Tony swerved in midair and headed for Thor – or rather, towards the lightning bolts that told him where Thor could be found.

On the ground, Steve and Natasha were struggling to keep the foot soldiers from advancing. One nearly got the advantage of Natasha, managing to grab her improvised weapon and hoist her into the air. A quick strike from Steve with his shield dispatched that enemy, and Natasha slumped back down, leaning briefly against a broken concrete barrier. “None of this is gonna mean a damned thing if we don’t close that portal,” she said, jerking one thumb upwards towards the sky.

Steve shook his head and wiped dust away from his eyes. “Our biggest guns couldn’t touch it.”

“Maybe it’s not about guns.” Her gaze shifted from the portal to Stark Tower, a thought brewing. 

“You wanna get up there, you’re gonna need a ride,” Steve pointed out.

Natasha’s eyes landed on the Chitauri flying machines. “I got a ride.” She grinned wolfishly at him. “I could use a lift though.”

Steve met her gaze briefly – gauged she was sincere, and mentally shrugged. As she backed up to get a running start, Steve angled his shield to give her a good jumping platform. “You sure about this?”

“Oh, yeah,” she assured him. “It’ll be fun.”

Steve added one more item to the list of things he didn’t understand about Misty’s friends. 

Natasha made a running leap at Steve, launching herself perfectly off his shield and using the momentum of his upwards push to summersault neatly onto the back of a Chitauri chariot. {Nat, what the fuck are you doing?!} Clint demanded. 

{Listening to my gut,} Natasha shot back. She unsheathed two wickedly sharp blades and jammed them into what she thought were the shoulders of the alien guiding the flying machine. Playing him like a marionette, she pointed the craft towards Stark Tower where the Tesseract mechanism stood, and prayed.

The battle raged on. Thor took out scores of Chitauri with a combination of Mjolnir, lightning, and brute force. He and Hulk worked seamlessly together – something Tony hadn’t expected but was gratified to see. For that matter, he hadn’t expected to slot into fighting with Steve so easily either. It was second nature for him to ricochet a repulsor blast off the vibranium shield; just as innate to turn away from an enemy long enough to fire a shot at a different target, knowing that Steve had his back.

“Steve, the bank on 42nd past Madison – they’ve got a lot of civilians in there,” Clint called into the comms. 

“I’m on it.” Steve peeled off from his current foe – trusting Tony to take over – and made for the bank.

“You need backup, Spangles?” Tony asked.

Steve dodged an alien’s weapon blast, taking out the shooter with two quick strikes. “Don’t think so.” Reaching the bank, he vaulted through a window and launched his shield at one of the soldiers. In a blur of motion he brought down two, flipped a third over the railing into the open lobby, and was headlocked by a fourth – just in time to notice a device that looked suspiciously like a time-delay explosive. “Everyone! Clear out!” he ordered the civilians. The remaining Chitauri soldier dove for the explosive just as it reached a fever pitch. The resulting explosion catapulted Steve out the window and onto a parked car. He groaned as he levered himself up out of the Steve-shaped car crater. To his profound relief, emergency responders arrived then, and he knew the civilians inside the bank were in good hands.

High above the ground, Natasha was focused on her goal of Stark Tower when an energy blast from beside her threatened that goal. “Damn it,” she grunted, seeing Loki out of the corner of her eye. “Could use an assist here!”

Clint nocked an arrow on the string and drew down on Loki. He wanted to put it through the demigod’s eye – could almost taste the victory as he loosed the arrow. To his utter shock, Loki grabbed the arrow by the shaft inches from his face, meeting Clint’s eyes across the divide. Loki smirked at Clint, but the archer had the last laugh as the arrow exploded, knocking the demigod off his chariot and onto Tony’s suit disassembling pad, near the top of Stark Tower.

His hand was on his quiver to fire another arrow at Loki – although he really didn’t think he could hit him – when a green blur interposed itself in his line of sight, and the Hulk arrived on scene. Hulk knocked Loki through a plate glass window into the penthouse, but the demigod drew himself up to his feet and screamed at Hulk.

“Enough! You are – all of you – beneath me! I am a God, you dull creature, and I will not be bullied – ”

Evidently godhood did not protect one from the wrath of either Bruce Banner or his Hulk otherself, for the green giant seized Loki by the ankle and swung him in repeated arcs over his head and into the marble floor with every evidence of enjoyment. He left the villain in a crater on the floor, stalking away with a derisive sniff. “Puny God.”

Clint burst out laughing. “Oh, I love the big green guy. We’ve got to keep him. Please tell me you still had cameras on in the penthouse, Tony – you’re going to want to keep that video for posterity.”

“I do,” Tony confirmed. “And JARVIS – my AI, basically the brain of the building – will keep an eye on our guest while we finish cleaning up these… things.” He dodged a trio of Chitauri chariots. “Tell you what, I’ll trade you a copy of the Hulk-smash-Loki video for a copy of the Phil-Fury-smackdown video.”

“Deal.” Clint fired another arrow, his eyes scanning the scene automatically. It wasn’t getting any better. 

Natasha dove off her purloined chariot, tucking into a roll onto the highest point of Stark Tower, where the Tesseract portal device stood. She came to her feet ten feet from the machine and Erik Selvig, closing the distance warily.

“Doctor,” she greeted. Natasha had never met the man and had seen only a few photos, but she could see something was different… something important. As the Tesseract thrummed and the portal increased in strength, the answer hit Natasha – Selvig’s eyes were not that same shade of blue. They were definitely blue – but a deep sea color, not the shade that Natasha had come to hate. So… the scepter’s hold on him had broken somehow. She doubted it was by the same method as she had used to rescue Clint, but that didn’t matter at the moment. What mattered was that he was semi-lucid.

“Loki’s scepter,” Selvig said slowly. He was speaking carefully, favoring his ribs. “The energy… the Tesseract can’t fight… you can’t protect against yourself.”

“It’s not your fault,” Natasha soothed immediately. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

There was the smallest hint of a smile on his tired face. “Well, actually, I think I did.” He grunted in pain as he tried to sit up. “I built in a safety to cut the power source.”

How in the hell had he managed that? How had this man been able to resist Loki’s control enough to slip a back door into a doomsday device… but Clint had not been able to keep from attacking her? It made no sense – but it was a puzzle for another time. “Loki’s scepter?” she asked.

“It might be able to close the portal.” His eyes drifted over the edge of the level they were on, looking down at the penthouse balcony that had been the sight of so many duels today. “And I’m looking right at it.”

Natasha pursed her lips. {Mother? Is this… am I allowed to fetch and use the scepter? Will it work? I know it’s not of our world…}

\\\You are wise to ask, my daughter – but I believe no harm will come to you, to wield it briefly,// Gaia answered promptly. The connection was thready – Stark Tower was tall enough to make it a challenge to reach the Goddess, and Natasha was tired too. \\\I have not the vision to know if it is a solution, but it is a reasonable possibility.//

That was about as sure a thing as Natasha could hope for, at the end of the world. She drew in a deep breath and readied herself for the climb down the building to retrieve the scepter.

Thor surfed atop a Chitauri chariot as he had seen Natasha do – but a successful blast by one of the aliens destroyed the machine and sent him hurtling to the ground. Rather than take back to the skies, Thor dropped onto the street next to Steve. 

The supersoldier was somewhat worse for wear. His uniform was torn in places, rapidly healing injuries peeking through. Steve thought he’d possibly been more exhausted during raids with the Howlies… maybe… but it was hard to recall.

Thor extended a hand to him, gracious as ever. He tugged Steve back to a standing position, from the ungainly sprawl he’d been in… being thrown into a car would do that to a person. “You ready for another bout?” the prince asked.

“What, you gettin’ sleepy?” Steve retorted – but though his tone was jocular, his heart was breaking again. He liked Thor – he thought – but his mind was screaming that this was the wrong man at his side, the wrong fighter to have at his back. God, it was only his second real battle since losing Bucky – Steve knew his grief was normal but…

“Fare thee well, shieldbrother?” Thor asked more quietly. The pain in Steve’s eyes was too strong for Thor not to see – not to want to ease.

Steve drew in a deep breath. “I will be.” Maybe, he thought, when this was all over – once he’d found Misty and gotten a hug and knew she was safe – maybe he could make a friend in Thor, and talk about Bucky and everything else he lost. Thor spoke like a man who had seen war – he would know loss as well.

Thor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Of that, I have no doubt.” He whirled Mjolnir around his head. “Shall we?” He gestured elegantly with his free hand towards the advancing Chitauri soldiers.

Chuckling despite himself, Steve nodded. The two returned to the fight with a new thread of camaraderie between them.

Tony was trying – and failing – to take down a leviathan himself. His repulsors were nearly useless against it – so were the new lasers he’d been playing with. It was infuriating – and intimidating – and Tony didn’t like either reaction.

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted as Tony tried again to pierce the otherworldly carapace, “we will lose power before you cut through that shell.”

He was out of options – but not out of ideas. “JARVIS, you ever heard the tale of Jonah?”

“I wouldn’t consider him a role model.”

God, Tony loved his AI… every snarky line of code. It didn’t stop him from aiming straight for the gullet of the creature – praying that nothing in the alien make-up was corrosive enough to destroy the Iron Man armor although at this point… well, if he went out in the belly of a giant alien space turtle, at least he’d have an interesting legacy. 

To his surprise, Tony blasted straight through the other end of the leviathan – and it died. Huh. Not his favorite way to kill a thing, because he was now banged up, covered in alien viscera, and generally just weirded out – but it worked.

Granted, he was now rolling out of an uncontrolled spin onto the asphalt street, facing a phalanx of Chitauri soldiers on the wrong end of a weapon. That was a little less awesome. Tony raised his hands, repulsors at the ready, and started to mow down the soldiers.

Clint reached back over his shoulder for an arrow out of his quiver and pulled the last one. {Well. Shit.} The Chitauri were still advancing on his position – rapidly. He was forced to fire the last arrow to avoid being brained by one of the freaky alien weapons – but cadged one from a corpse nearby. Sticking it back into the quiver, he pressed the series of buttons that would load a new tip onto it – this one a grappling head. Saying a quick prayer to Gaia, Clint pitched himself off the side of the building, twisted in the air, and fired the grappling arrow at the building. It caught, swinging him in what was probably a graceful parabolic arc but felt a hell of a lot less beautiful to him, given that it ended with Clint smashing through a glass window and rolling on the debris inside the building.

{Clint!} Phil’s alarm was palpable, forcing breath back into Clint’s aching lungs.

{I’m alive, Moonbeam. Headed down to ground floor now… fuck if I know where I am.} Clint dragged himself up off the glass and staggered towards a staircase. “Tony! Steve! I’m eyes off, had to vacate my post. Headed down to street level, I’ll try and make for you.”

“Aim for Thor’s lightning,” Tony advised. “It’s like fighting with a giant flare.”

Steve snorted. “He is a flare, or he’s got flair?”

There was a long pause on the comms, several of them fighting off more foes. “Well.” Clint thundered down two more flights of stairs. “We’d better tell Misty, I’m keeping her pet captain. Sass like that should be properly nurtured.”

“I ain’t nobody’s pet – ” Steve protested.

“Yeah, no,” Tony drawled. “Not believing that for a minute.” He dodged an energy blast, taking out a pair of alien shooters. “I kinda think that little blond spitfire’s got you wrapped, Spangles.”

“Argue about it later,” Natasha advised them sharply. She’d reached the scepter and held it now for the return climb, back up to the peak of the tower. Even just those few seconds in contact with it, she could feel her own irritation doubling. “I’ve got the scepter. Few more minutes, and we’ll see if Selvig’s back door works.”

“Oh, please tell me somebody’s gonna make a back door joke,” Clint whispered. “That is just too good to leave alone.”

Tony laughed outright. “I think you just did, Birdbrain.” 

~ * ~

Maria had been dreading – but expecting – the ignition of a jet engine. She definitely was not pleased to realize that the nuke the World Security Council intended to fire on Manhattan had been on the helicarrier the whole time – damn it, her bunny was on this ship! – but the duplicity didn’t surprise her.

Fury, in all his – well, fury – charged onto the deck with a grenade launcher to disable the unauthorized flight. He did so smoothly – with no loss of life.

Unfortunately, somebody on the Council apparently knew Fury well enough to have launched a decoy plane… because a second plane took off immediately following Fury’s disabling of the first.

She might have panicked – she was definitely considering it – when someone coolly took command of the situation. On the general public address system as well as on all comm lines, Phil Coulson’s voice rang out. “Mister Stark! Do you copy?”

“Agent?!?”

“You have a missile headed straight for the city,” Phil continued without giving Tony more of a chance to respond. There would be time for discussions later – he hoped.

Maria was not the only one looking wide-eyed at the sound of Phil’s voice – and she’d known he was alive. She hadn’t expected him to reveal himself quite so dramatically… or to hear that peculiar ring of command that meant he was speaking as Chief Coulson. She wondered if it would work on non-clanmembers.

“How long?” Tony demanded, all business.

“Three minutes, max. Payload will wipe out Midtown.” Phil paused, and though Maria could not see him – he must still be in Tactical – she could feel him draw his authority to him like a cloak. “Take out that missile, Tony.” Phil’s throat tightened as he spoke – because though he had absolute faith in Tony’s obedience, he wasn’t sure this was an order that could be safely executed. If they had more time, Tony would be able to hack the navigation or detonation system, or physically disable the bomb – but time was a luxury they did not have. 

Tony didn’t answer Phil aloud, but he did dispatch the Chitauri in front of him and order JARVIS to put all his remaining power into the thrusters. Shooting up into the sky, he locked on to the nuclear missile and pushed the limits of his tech to reach it.

“Goddess bless, ceannroadai deantoir,” Phil murmured into the comm.

~ * ~

Natasha, panting and disheveled, held the scepter (glow stick of destiny, her brain insisted) at the ready, waiting for Selvig’s signal. The astrophysicist was typing feverishly, though she didn’t understand in the slightest what he was doing. “I can close it,” Natasha said into her communicator when Selvig nodded to her. “I can shut the portal down!”

“Do it!” Steve ordered, snapping the neck of an advancing Chitauri.

“No, wait!” Tony’s voice was strained, audibly struggling as he manhandled a nuclear missile off course. “This nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute… and I know just where to put it.”

Steve grunted in pain as he was pinned briefly by the enemy – and rescued by Thor. He’d heard Agent Coulson’s voice on the comms – it had sounded a little bit like the voice of God – but hadn’t fully registered the severity. He’d heard missile, and not jumped to nuclear – hadn’t remembered in the moment that the rumored weapons of the Manhattan Project had come to full, horrifying fruition during his time in the ice. Oh, Misty had mentioned them – but fighting for his life, Steve wasn’t exactly recalling his lessons with perfect clarity.

Clint burst out of the building he’d been on, his eyes immediately going up to the sky. He recognized the bright blare of repulsors, saw the candy-apple red armor tilt upwards with its projectile burden. His breath caught. Where to put it indeed… Clint rather thought Tony’d watched a few of the same movies his husband did, because this reminded Clint a hell of a lot of the final climactic scene in Independence Day – and the father’s sacrifice.

“Tony,” Steve said softly. “Is that a one-way trip?”

Tony’s breath caught. “Might be.” He pushed that aside – couldn’t dwell on it. “Save the rest of the power for the return, J.”

“Sir.” And hell, now Tony regretting programming inflection in JARVIS, because even the AI sounded regretful. “Shall I call Miss Potts?”

Until he suggested it, Tony hadn’t given it a spare byte of thought – and figured he should be ashamed of that. “Might as well.” If this were really the end – and fuck, it looked likely – he’d like to hear her voice one more time. It was probably indicative of the life he’d led that the call wasn’t answered.

With his heart in his throat, Tony pushed the warhead, and his suit, to the limit – and crossed through the portal.

He’d expected to feel it, somehow. To feel transported, or changed, or… something. What he felt instead was blind horror as all communications with JARVIS died out, and the power failed. Before him where should be a vast expanse of stars – instead, from one horizon to the other, all he could see was the enemy. There must have been hundreds of thousands of them, waiting in some kind of readiness… waiting to pour through the portal, to rain fire upon his world under the command of a madman.

Tony couldn’t cry – there wasn’t time or air. His eyes drifted shut on the sight of the horde, and he lost consciousness and control. His last thought as the suit disengaged from the nuclear missile was that at least he was going to take a fuckton of enemies out with him when he went.

~ * ~

There was muffled cheering over the comms as the nuke passed through the portal – someone on the helicarrier must have left a mic open. None of the Avengers were cheering. As the Chitauri keened and died, as they writhed to the ground in agony – Natasha realized the bomb must have blown. If it had taken out the mothership – and by the Goddess, she hated that she was relying on Phil’s sci-fi movie collection to interpret what was happening here – then the sudden collapse of the ground soldiers made sense. 

But Tony did not reappear.

“Come on, Tony,” Natasha whispered into the comm. “You’ve pulled off miracles before, what’s one more?” Though her voice quavered, the hands holding the scepter were steady.

Through the still-open portal, Steve could see the blossoming of an explosion… or at least, the extension of a shockwave. He glanced at Thor, who nodded gravely. Steve sucked in a breath. He didn’t want to give the order – didn’t want to condemn his teammate to the other side of the galaxy, to never coming home… to leaving no body for his comrades to bury. There was no choice. “Close it.”

Choking back a sob, Natasha jammed the scepter into the crown of the Tesseract device.

The blue beam flickered out, and the edges of the portal began to fold in on themselves. Natasha dropped the scepter and looked up, one hand covering her mouth and the other her heart – in time to see a small figure drop out of the portal at the very last instant.

Relief surged in Steve. “Son of a bitch. He did it.” 

They watched – waiting for that bright flame to reignite. “He is not slowing down,” Thor rumbled, spinning Mjolnir. He would catch his teammate, of course – that was a foregone conclusion.

He needn’t have bothered. Hulk launched himself into the air and snagged the falling Iron Man, cradling him carefully as he brought them both to ground. Steve and Thor closed on them as Hulk laid Tony out carefully. Thor reached for Tony’s mask, yanking it off. The suit was unresponsive, not even lit with the barest glow. Steve put a hand on the metal shoulder, not having the slightest idea what to do.

Hulk leaned over Tony, sucked in a breath, and roared.

“What the hell?!” Tony jerked back into consciousness, looking up at his teammates. He vaguely registered Steve and Thor beside him, Hulk looming nearby. Heard Clint arrive breathlessly, suspected that the voice he could hear coming through their comms was Natasha. “What just happened?” His eyes darted between them. “Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

Steve huffed a laugh, wiping dirt and sweat away from his face. “We won.”

Tony slumped back down to the ground. “Alright.” Hell, that was unexpected. “Hey, alright. Good job, guys.” He waved a hand vaguely at his teammates. “Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s just take a day.” He saw Steve smile, heard Clint’s incredulous snort. “Have you ever tried shawarma? There’s a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don’t know what it is, but I wanna try it.”

{You’re right, Clint,} Natasha said privately. {We have to keep him.}

{I kinda figured that Moonbeam calling him by a Gaelic name made that a foregone conclusion,} Clint answered drily.

Thor looked up at Stark Tower, where his brother still lay under the watch of JARVIS. “We are not finished yet.”

“And then shawarma after?” Tony asked hopefully.

~ * ~

Phil waited until Tony was safe on the ground before he left Tactical. He straightened his cuffs and his tie, checked that his badge and sidearm were in position, and nodded at his clan. All eight Scoobies followed him through the corridors to the bridge – Catriona walked beside him, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow. 

Fury straightened to his full height as they entered. The addition of ten more people on the bridge made it crowded, but no one seemed interested in leaving.

“I have this mad desire to shout ‘Captain on the bridge’ like Ensign Chekov,” Angie murmured to Lance.

“Chief on deck doesn’t really haven’t the same ring to it,” Lance whispered back.

Phil shot them a quelling look – but there was amusement in his eyes. He turned his attention back to the agents on the bridge. Almost all of them were looking at him with a combination of fear and respect. “As you can see, the rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.” There were soft titters, nervous amusement. Phil reached into his jacket slowly – telegraphing his moves with over-large gestures – and removed his badge. He held it in his hands for a moment, thumbs caressing the worn leather – and then he extended it to Fury.

“Effective immediately, you have my resignation.” Phil ignored the swift intakes of breath, the shock in Fury’s expression. “By the time you check your email, you will find formal letters of resignation from myself, Agent Barton, and Agent Romanoff.” He paused. “I would not be surprised if they are but the first in a long series of them.”

Fury took Phil’s badge, staring at it. “Why—”

Phil shook his head. “That you have to ask why is proof that I am making the correct decision.” Though from his posture and tone, it was not one he made lightly or happily.

“You’re abandoning SHIELD to serve that witch—” Fury accused, stabbing a finger at Catriona.

“While I am honored and privileged to be called to serve Gaia,” Phil interrupted, “and as such, recognize Lady Catriona as both my High Priestess and my initiating Druid – that is not the only reason I make this choice, Nick.” His eyes locked on Fury’s. “You were going to let me die.” Phil’s voice was quiet, but forceful. He didn’t need to raise his voice – there was no other conversation on the bridge. Idly, he wondered if Angie was broadcasting this conversation on the PA system – it wouldn’t have surprised him. “You stood in the path of my salvation and refused her passage.” Phil’s eyes blazed. “You attempted to interfere in the sacred duty of the High Priestess of Gaia. When you couldn’t prevent Catriona from Healing me, you chose instead to fictionalize my death. You used that faux death to catalyze Captain Rogers and Mister Stark to cooperate – believing it would take something extraordinary for them to do so.”

Fury tried again to take control of the conversation. “It was necessary—”

“They already answered to me.” Fury’s protest died on his lips. “Stark, Rogers, Banner, Thor, Barton, Romanoff. All of them answered willingly to my command. There was no need for this farce.” Phil’s lips curled. “But you had to have your theatrics. You had to take those trading cards – ” surprise flickered on Fury’s face “ – oh yes, I know what you did to those cards. Stole them out of my quarters, stripped them out of their cases, dipped them in blood – whose blood did you use, Nick? It wasn’t mine – and tossed them on the table in front of Rogers. But that isn’t the worst of it.”

Phil took a deep breath and held up his left hand, palm towards himself. {Please, Mother – lift the disguise from our rings.} He knew She had granted his request by Fury’s gasp. “You would have lied to my wife – told her she was a widow in truth. You would have let my husband think he’d led the assault that killed me. And even though they knew, beyond all doubt, that I was alive – you would have let others believe me dead. My family, Nick – you’d have called my mother and told her I died, wouldn’t you? My sisters?” He gestured behind him. “You lied to all of my agents.”

“Wife?” Fury repeated blankly. “Husband?”

It was the first time Phil thought he’d ever thoroughly shocked the Director, but he didn’t take time to savor it. “Yes, Nick. My spouses. Clint Barton Coulson and Natasha Romanoff Barton Coulson.”

“I knew – you – I knew you were fucking a subordinate—”

He did not get a chance to finish his statement. Lightning quick, Phil’s hand snapped out and slapped Fury’s scarred cheek. He’d purposely gone for a loud and insulting slap rather than a more dignified strike. “You lost the right to comment on my conduct a long time ago.”

“I am the Director of this agency – ”

“You are a pawn of the World Security Council and, I suspect, of the Tesseract.” Phil folded his hands in front of him. “And you are no longer my superior officer.”

“He’s never been your superior, sensei,” Misty said in a clear voice – rather loudly. “Your boss, sure. Outrank you, maybe. But he’s never been superior.” Her chin lifted, and she stared down her nose at Fury.

“Grasshopper,” Phil said calmly. “I do believe it’s Someday.”

“Thank fuck.” Misty looked around the clan. “Bleachtaire… activate Operation: Epilogue.” Angie raised a small device and began punching buttons with her thumbs. “Oh, don’t look so scared,” she scoffed to Fury. “It’s not that bad. It’s just a packet of resignation letters arriving in your inbox as we speak. Eight of them.”

Fury’s eye traveled over each of the Scooby Squad. “I should have known giving you a team was a fucking mistake. I haven’t had your loyalty since – ”

“You have no grounds to speak of loyalty.” Phil’s voice dropped into pity. “There was a time that I trusted you, Nick. A time when I knew that I – and my agents – were safe under your command. That has been a very long time ago. In the past five years, you’ve sent agents out on missions that should never have gotten passed planning. You’ve pushed handlers to treat their assets as chattel. You’ve violated Section 74 so many times that I’m not the only handler that has it memorized. We’ve buried more agents in the past five years than Director Carter did in ten.” That last he added with a harshness that made Fury’s eyes widen. “I have tried to protect my agents. I have tried to protect the agency.” Phil paused. “I would lay down my life for a number of people on this ship and off it – but you are no longer one of them, Director Fury.”

His eyes fell on Maria, standing rigidly at attention. “Someone needs to stay to carry on the work. The agency itself isn’t all bad, nor are the people in it.” Phil met Maria’s eyes, hoping she understood what he was asking. “SHIELD has a purpose, now more than ever. Its agents still need leadership and support… but that can no longer come from me. I serve a different purpose – I serve the Goddess first, my spouses second, and my family third.” His eyes shifted back to Fury, and a hint of amusement flickered across his face. “You need to sort out your priorities.”

On that note, Phil gestured with a Scooby-specific hand signal, and ten members of An Teaglach Tofa retreated from the helicarrier bridge.

~ * ~


	15. Chapter 15

“Get. Up.” Natasha ordered Loki in a low voice. She was standing over the demigod where he lay in a Loki-shaped crater in the Stark Tower penthouse. In one gloved hand she held the Tesseract. In the other, she held the scepter. The weapons were not what gave him pause - there was no mistaking the menace in her tone.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki blinked up at her. He was nearly certain she would not use the weapons against him… but not certain enough.

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Get up. You’re coming with me.” Natasha’s grip on the weapons didn’t tighten, didn’t falter.

Loki snorted, levering himself up into a seated position. He refused to show any indication of how painful his injuries were. Let this pitiful mortal woman believe him unharmed by the battle. “You, and what army?” he quipped, smiling winningly. “You have not the fortitude to wield those weapons – you have not the well of emotion within you to channel them.”

“Don’t I?” she asked, very softly. The tip of the scepter dropped until it was pointing at Loki’s heart. “First, you used this to steal my husband, my partner. You ripped him from my mind and used him as a weapon.” Natasha’s eyes met Loki’s, and she let him see her rage. “Then you used this,” she jostled the scepter, “to impale my husband, my chief – to take him from us permanently. You nearly succeeded,” she added thoughtfully. “Were it not for our bond to the Goddess – and now his – you would have.”

She circled him in the crater, their eyes never parting. “And were endangering my husbands not enough to incite my rage,” Natasha continued conversationally, “you put the lives of everyone I love in danger. People I call kin. Not just the people on the helicarrier – you put my entire world at risk, Loki Odinson… and neither I nor my Great Mother Goddess will allow that.”

Loki looked at the weapons in her hands, and the fire blazing in her eyes – and rose. He lowered his head deferentially. “I will not challenge you this day, Warrior.”

“Wise choice.” She gestured with the tip of the scepter, and he began to walk. A sharp jerk of her head commanded Erik to fall into step behind her. “In point of fact, you’ll challenge me no day.”

“Is that so?”

Natasha laughed – low and deep and without mirth. “It is.” He risked a glance back over his shoulder at her. “I’m not turning you over to your adopted father or to your brother.” Loki’s eyes widened. “I’ll release you to none but your mother… and I daresay that she has more to say on your exploits than I ever could.”

Erik followed them silently, trying to remain unnoticed by both Thor’s brother and the stunningly beautiful (and deadly) woman who’d introduced herself to him as Natasha Romanoff. He was struggling to stay upright. He’d been captive in his own mind for two days, give or take – his body had been cared for only perfunctorily. The fighting had left him with one hell of a headache… and experience suggested it was a concussion. Probably a bad one, based on his doubled vision and the roaring in his ears. His physical condition was one reason he wasn’t objecting to the woman’s preemptory commands… Erik’s excessive state of confusion was another. Thor – and by extension, Loki – were from another world. This woman spoke easily of serving a Goddess – and just as casually mentioned two different husbands. She’d used weapons from another world to dismantle a device he’d designed himself – to cease an alien invasion. The events of the last forty-eight hours were going to take some time to parse, he feared – but for now, he would just stay as invisible as possible. And maybe… if he was particularly lucky… he’d be able to find some painkillers for this headache.

~ * ~

Being acutely acquainted with the entire catalog of Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes meant that Clint had an unfortunately intimate knowledge of a particular episode – the musical episode. All of the Scoobies liked to randomly burst into song – sometimes Disney, sometimes Sesame Street, sometimes musicals… and often, lyrics from that particular episode crept into their lexicon.

Which is why, as he picked his way through the crumpled remains of the city towards some nameless shawarma joint, he had a particular lyric stuck in his head: ‘The battle’s won, and we kind of won, so we sound our victory cheer… tell me, where do we go from here?’

It was disgustingly apt.

It was also disgustingly catchy, which meant that it was stuck in Natasha’s head as well – so any time Clint managed to free himself of it… it was hovering right there in his wife’s head to catch again. And if by some chance neither of them were hearing it – well, Phil apparently always had a song playing in his head. Clint had counted eighteen different tunes, just since the portal had closed. He’d had no idea that his husband walked around in a world of song – it was one more delightful facet of Phil that their Gaia bond had revealed.

Those new facets they were learning were why he wasn’t arguing with Catriona’s current decree – unlike Phil. As he picked through the streets with his teammates, Clint kept one ear on their chatter but the majority of his attention was on the telepathic discussion between his husband, wife, and Catriona.

{You must take the time, treorai,} Catriona insisted. It was trippy for Clint to hear her telepathically, but when Phil chose to echo her words through to his achroi ghra bond, he heard the pixie loud and clear – in this case, quite loud. {Your bond requires nurturing.}

{This is a spectacularly bad time for us to take a vacation,} Phil protested mildly – again. {My people – my clan – will need me.}

Catriona’s mental reply managed to convey both a raised eyebrow and a steely glare. {Your spouses need you more.} She had not laid eyes on Natasha or Clint since Phil’s healing… but she did not need to – she had information straight from Gaia. {If I must, I will make it an order as both your Initiating Druid and the High Priestess.}

Phil sighed. That Catriona could be so immovable was part of who she was – but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. {Fine. We will go on this so-critical leave under one condition.} The druid raised an eyebrow and waited. {You have to promise me, on your honor, that you will accept help during your recovery. Not a token acceptance either, Catriona – I am not leaving this city until I know that you are going to take the time and care that you need to restore yourself to full health.}

{I am not—}

{Don’t try to lie to me, little one,} Phil interrupted. {One of the handy new Guardian bonuses is having a pretty good insight as to your state of being, and it isn’t good. And as your Guardian, I should be the one taking care of you.} His voice firmed. {As your Clanchief, I should be the one taking care of you. Hell, as your friend – but I will delegate it to someone else if you swear to me that you will accept their help with the same grace you would mine.}

Catriona was silent for a long moment. {It is very difficult to argue with you, when you plead your case so eloquently, treorai. Very well. I shall accept the care offered to me by the Clan – and the Avengers, if they so choose – in your stead, at your request.}

{How much time are we talking about?} Natasha asked.

{Big Mama suggests a week at the farm, then a week at the Inn,} Clint supplied. He’d mostly stayed quiet during the discussion – discretion seemed the better part of valor. {As long as Catriona and the kids are taken care of… I know it’s a long time but… I think we need it.} For just a heartbeat, Clint let his spouses see the morass in his mind – guilt and grief and exhaustion and worry all wrapped up in one maelstrom. {I need it, at any rate.}

Phil had to swallow hard. {Alright. If that’s… what you need.} He wished he could reach out to his husband, but he was closed up in his quarters – former quarters – on the helicarrier with the Scoobies, and it would be some time yet before he could see his spouses. {I don’t know what the kids are going to do yet. That conversation’s next. Scatter until we’re back in town, probably.}

Clint was vaguely aware that they’d reached the restaurant – somewhat miraculously, it was relatively intact. {I’ve got to check out, Moonbeam – I’ll keep you updated as to what’s going on here.}

{Alright. Please be careful, pretty bird. I think we’ve used up our miracle quota for the next several decades.} With that, Phil shifted his attention back to his physical companions – eight Scoobies and Catriona, all curled up in his tiny helicarrier quarters. He had worked his way through the mass of bodies until he could sit at the head of his narrow bunk. Catriona crept closer to him until she was tucked under his arm. 

“Alright,” Phil sighed, opening his eyes. “Time to make some hard choices.”

“I’m going with you,” CJ said immediately.

Phil smiled at him. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“I don’t care.” CJ was sitting in the corner with his knees drawn up to his chest. Misty scooted closer to him and slid her arm around his waist. He didn’t pull away – rather, for the first time in her memory, he leaned into her touch.

Misty opened her mouth to comment but was forestalled by the opening of the door. Maria slipped in on silent feet, closing the door behind her. She shot Phil a glare as she settled on Misty’s other side, careful not to crowd CJ. “You want to explain why you damned near ordered me to stay here, Chief?” Maria asked hotly. “Because let me tell you – ”

Phil raised a hand to stop the angry words. “I’m sorry.” His immediate apology ended the rant before it had really gotten off the ground. “I put you in a very difficult position – you and Misty both. If we’d had time… I’d rather have discussed it with you first, Ria.”

“I have just as much reason to leave SHIELD as you do,” Maria hissed.

“Not quite.” One side of Phil’s lips curved up. “Close.” His eyes slid to Misty, clinging to Maria’s hand. “I know the sacrifice I’m asking you to make, laoch scail. I don’t ask lightly… and I’m not asking for permanence, either.” He tipped his head back to rest on the wall. “If my math is correct, the cricket is due around Halloween, right?”

“Aye,” Catriona agreed. “Likely a Samhain babe.”

“Can you give me that long, Maria? Misty?” He looked between them, his own eyes entreating. “Can you stay at SHIELD, keep our agents safe that long, until you can see other competent agents put in place?”

Maria’s lips pursed. “If you were so concerned with other agents, why’d you put in your papers so fast?”

“That’s not fair—” CJ protested. 

Phil waved him to silence as well. “It’s a reasonable question, faireoir.” Not one he particularly wanted to answer, but relevant. “I was already struggling,” Phil said softly. “Clint and Nat too. Our duties to Gaia and the clan were… pulling us in directions other than SHIELD. Now…” He looked down at Catriona, nestled under his arm. “I feel like a varsity player that’s just been signed by the pro league. My old team isn’t any less important to me, or any less capable – but I have a new responsibility. Bigger.”

“I ain’t never heard Chief use a sports metaphor,” Chuck mused into the silence.

Misty leaned into Maria’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell us what your plan is, sensei, and we’ll see how my contingency plan fits in with it.”

His eyebrows winged up and his lips twitched. “Alright.” It shouldn’t surprise him that Misty had a plan… he wondered how closely it paralleled his own. “Upon orders from her Reverence – ”

“Treorai, you know I detest being called that.”

“ – my spouses and I will be spending a week in Iowa followed by a week in Wisconsin.” Phil ignored Catriona’s interruption and subsequent pout. “This is not exactly a vacation. It is… well, learning to live in each other’s heads is a bit of a challenge.”

“We encourage all newly Chosen to take such a sabbatical,” Catriona murmured. 

“Once that’s done…” Phil sighed. “I would like very much to have all of us in one place. Perhaps…” he trailed off hesitantly.

Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “Now I’m just plumb curious.”

Phil rubbed a hand over his face. “We’ve talked about… going private sector. Mercenary, I suppose. Shopping the team out to other agencies as independent contractors.” He sighed. “I haven’t set plans in place yet. This… invasion… has upset my timeline.”

“I’m in,” Lance said after a moment. “For freelance, I mean. I’d rather an uncertain future with my clan than a certainty without it.” He stretched his foot out and nudged Raj, who was closest. “Let’s round robin it, see who all’s in favor.”

When it was unanimously agreed, Phil had to blink back tears. “So.” He cleared his throat. “That’s… that’s the plan for once we’re back from sabbatical. In the meantime…”

“Reckon we oughta make ourselves scarce, yeah?” Chuck suggested. “Take some time off ourselves. Visit my mama, get my affairs in order. See what we can do to locate a good home base that’ll hold all of us.”

Angie nodded slowly. “We’ll want to get out of DC, I think. Might think about relocating to the big apple – I mean, they’ll need manpower for cleanup, right? Be a good way to get our feet wet. I’m not going to be visiting any family… I can pack up places for peeps that aren’t hanging here. If you guys’ll trust me to pack up the dojo?” She raised an eyebrow at Phil.

“That’s – yes, that is a fine idea.” He smoothed a hand down Catriona’s curls. “Shall we say two weeks from tomorrow, then – rendezvous in New York?”

“You’re not leaving without me,” CJ said stubbornly.

Phil chuckled. “Alright. You can fly me – and Catriona – to meet with Nat and Clint. We’ll figure out what’s next for you then. Will that suffice, faireoir?” CJ nodded. “Stay in touch. As we get closer to time, I’ll make sure that everyone knows where we’ll be meeting up.” Phil rose and held out one hand to Catriona and one to CJ. “C’mon, then.”

“You’re leaving now?” Maria blinked.

“It’s Friday,” Phil said lightly. “I’ve got to see a man about a donut.”

~ * ~

The five male Avengers were already seated at tables when Natasha, Erik, and Loki arrived at the shawarma restaurant. Thor rose to his feet in alarm to see Natasha holding weapons on his brother – but desisted at a sharp shake of Clint’s head.

“Put him in the bathroom and stick Mjolnir on him,” Natasha ordered, glaring at Loki. “The women’s bathroom.”

Loki obeyed meekly, which only confused her teammates. Once he was out of sight – and Thor did indeed pin him to the ground with his hammer – Natasha shoved the Tesseract and the scepter into a canvas bag and pushed them to the farthest edge of the restaurant. She didn’t want to touch them, but she didn’t want them out of her control, either. 

Erik found a quiet corner and settled himself. Bruce wandered over while their food was being cooked, probing at Erik’s head wound. “I don’t think it’s serious,” Bruce said, checking Erik’s pupils. “Probably one hell of a headache, and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get a CT scan, but I think it’s fine.”

“I just want some peace and quiet,” Erik said softly. His eyes flickered around the room, unwilling to settle in any one place. 

Thor stepped forward, presumably to converse with Erik, and Bruce waved him off. “You heard the man. Give him some space.” Bruce clasped Erik’s shoulder briefly. “Rest. Stay awake for me though, will you? I don’t want you sleeping with a head injury until we get it checked out.”

“I can agree to that.” Erik smiled a little apologetically at Thor. “We’ll catch up later – some time when I’m not hearing the ringing of the bells in my noggin, yeah?”

“As you wish,” Thor agreed, bowing his head respectfully. He turned back to his teammates. “Let us feast, then.”

Feast they did – the restaurant owners were so overwhelmed by their presence that they just continued to make and bring food, regardless of what they ordered. Considering the appetites of those at the table, it was just as well. Steve could put away a lot of food himself – adding Thor and Bruce to the mix meant their calorie consumption was on a massive scale.

The bell over the door jingled cheerily, completely at odds with the devastation around it and the shell-shocked heroes inside the establishment. More than one pair of tired eyes assessed the newcomers – inventoried, identified, and dismissed as a threat. A middle aged bureaucrat, a very young man in a tactical uniform, and a petite redhead stood just inside the door.

“I guess he really didn’t get dead,” Tony muttered when he realized the man was Agent Coulson – and he might have continued with a pithy remark, but was rendered speechless by what followed. Natasha made a noise he could only translate as a sob and shot from her seat next to Clint straight to the newcomers… and wrapped her arms around Agent Coulson. And if that wasn’t enough… Clint was only a hair’s breadth behind her, tears in his eyes as he joined the embrace, and the three Agents stood with their foreheads pressed together and eyes streaming and cheeks wet –

– and completely silent.

Comprehension bloomed in Steve – half-understood truths from the past two days knit together. They were wedding rings after all – this was what Phil had meant by a nontraditional relationship. Not two halves of a whole – three leaves of a shamrock. Looking at them now, he understood the motives and comments by both Natasha and Phil so much more – and even as he reveled in piecing together part of the mystery, his own heart ached. They loved so totally and completely that the emptiness in his heart rang in answer. He had known that devotion once, not that long ago… not to him. Steve had to close his eyes against a fresh tsunami of grief, swallowing hard against the tightness in his throat. 

“What the hell—” Tony began, but was interrupted… again.

“Your Reverence, it is well to see you.” Thor rose from his seat at the table and bowed deeply. Beside him, Steve and Bruce stood as well… right. Manners, Tony reminded himself, as he dragged his tired body to his feet. “It seems it must fall to me to perform the necessary introductions,” Thor boomed, bowing his head respectfully in Catriona’s direction. “Lady Catriona O’Clare, the White Druid, High Priestess of Gaia – this is Captain Steven Rogers, Man of Iron Anthony Stark, Doctor Erik Selvig, and Doctor Bruce Banner.” His eyes flickered curiously to the young man at her side.

“Thank you, your Highness.” The druid inclined her head regally. “I believe all of you know Phil Coulson?” There were several nods. “This is one of his… trainees… CJ Forrester.” She gestured at CJ, who gave them a small nod but did not come any closer. “It is a pleasure to meet all of you.” Catriona attempted a graceful curtsey but her strength failed her, and she swayed dangerously. Thor leapt forward to support her, Steve half a breath behind him. “I will be fine,” she said in answer to Thor’s nonverbal query. “I have used a great deal of power this day – it will be some time before I approach normal strength again.”

“Then you should be seated,” Thor said immediately, and gestured for her to take his place at the table. “Please, my Lady.”

Catriona sat – partly out of politeness, and partly because her legs did not wish to hold her any longer. She noticed – but chose not to speak of – CJ fading into the backdrop of the restaurant, scanning it continuously for threats. “I apologize that we must meet under such circumstances, but it is an honor to meet such noble warriors nonetheless.” She smiled at each of the men in turn, her eyes landing on Bruce last. “Particularly you, Doctor Banner – your work has been of great interest to Gaia’s Druids. There are several of our number who would be most gratified to speak with you.”

Bruce looked stunned. “Me?”

“Aye. And a few who would prefer to meet your otherself.” Catriona smiled again. “Cormac – Master Cormac O’Connolly, the Master Craftsman – has been itching for a bout between himself and – what is it you call your otherself?”

“Hulk,” Steve answered, when it was apparent that Bruce wouldn’t – or couldn’t. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

“Catriona is fine – Lady Catriona, if you must be formal.” She surveyed the food and drink in front of her. “Is something among this high in calories?” Wordlessly, Bruce offered her a plate. “Thank you.” She selected an item from it and bit delicately into it.

Thor surveyed the establishment and freed three more chairs – one which he placed near Catriona’s, the other two on the opposite side of the table where Natasha and Clint had been sitting. He glanced at the two assassins, still standing in silent communion with Agent Coulson. “They are truly bonded, then?” Thor asked Catriona quietly as he sat down next to her. “Bound to the Goddess, and to each other?”

“Aye.” Catriona wished Thor had sat close enough for her to lean against him – she felt the need for physical contact with an almost painful ache. “Boghdoir and M’inion were already sworn Warriors. Treorai is a new type of Her Chosen, which She is calling a Guardian.”

Tony sucked noisily at a soda. “So, the four of you are part of some religious cult?”

“Mind your tongue—” Thor began, but Catriona shook her head.

“Be not so hasty to defend me, Prince Thor. Doctor Stark has little reason to believe in the divine. One could refer to our fellowship as a religion, certainly, as it centers around service to a deity. We are more numerous than four – I am one of eleven Druids. There are approximately two dozen Warriors… and one Guardian.” She smiled in Phil’s direction, though she did not attempt to draw his attention away from his achroi ghra. “Many of history’s most noteworthy fighters have served Gaia, as we do. Not just those who fight with arms, though that is certainly the bulk of Her Warriors…” Catriona’s voice trailed off as her energy failed her again.

It had been a long time – a lifetime – since Steve had felt that particular sensation, but he remembered it. Before the serum, his body had given out on him a time or two, when he’d pushed too hard. It had taken all his mother’s skill as a nurse, and Bucky’s patient care, for him to regain his strength. Surreptitiously, Steve moved closer to the little redhead that spoke Gaelic – if she was feeling as weary as she sounded, as he remembered feeling… she’d need the support.

Gratefully, Catriona let herself rest against the Captain’s side. Sandwiched between Thor and the Captain she felt like a child, and an overtired one at that.

“Hard to think of Agent Agent as a warrior,” Tony mused, his eyes moving to the suit-clad figure.

Proving that he was not completely oblivious to his surroundings, Phil pulled back from his spouses long enough to say, “I’m not an Agent anymore, Mister Stark. I resigned from SHIELD today.”

“So did we,” Natasha added, twining her fingers in Clint’s. She met Tony’s startled gaze. “I can serve an organization that lies and kills – but not one that tries to keep me from my husbands… not permanently.”

“He would have let me die rather than let Catriona Heal me,” Phil continued. He was speaking to Tony, but his hands and eyes were still on his spouses. “Bleed out on the deck of the ship. Let my husband think he’d led the assault that killed me. Make my wife a widow in truth.” His eyes slid to Steve. “My team resigned as well – Summers’ squad. The Scoobies.”

“Misty?” Steve asked immediately. “Is she safe?” 

Phil nodded slowly. “She was fine, when we left her on the helicarrier.”

His gaze latched onto Phil’s. “Why did you leave her up there? It isn’t safe. You’re her sensei – she’s your responsibility.”

“As she informed me when I attempted to order her off it – she resigned, and therefore doesn’t report to me,” Phil said drily. “I tried to persuade her, but she had… unfinished business. The Scoobies had a contingency plan, and they’re going to scatter and wait for contact.” He chuckled a little. “None of my plans involved being impaled by an Asgardian on the glow-stick of destiny. I’m having to do a little restructuring.” Clint made a soft, sad sound and Phil pulled him closer. “I’m fine, pretty bird. All healed up,” Phil murmured.

Tony was doing some restructuring of his own – because his entire worldview had shifted three degrees to the left today. Aliens. Magic. Outer space. Certain death. World domination. The apocalypse. Agent Agent having emotions. It had been a hell of a day, and it wasn’t even sunset. Fuck, he was tired – and he wanted a drink with a fervor that made his skin crawl. “I’m gonna guess you need a place to crash here in New York, right?” he asked.

“I would just as soon do no further crashing,” Thor murmured.

“Yeah, I’m with him on this,” Bruce added, running a hand through hair that was caked with dust and debris.

“I do not have a safehouse in this city,” Catriona sighed. “DC, Ireland, Wisconsin, Iowa, yes. New York, I fear not.”

Natasha rested her head against her husbands. “I do, but nothing big enough for the whole clan,” she admitted. “Thirteen of us won’t fit in the studio I keep.”

Tony shifted in his seat. “Parts of the Tower – Stark Tower – are habitable.” He tapped nervously at the table. “Consider it open to you.”

Phil raised an eyebrow at Tony. “Hospitality, Mister Stark? How unexpected.”

“Treorai, that is not fair—” Catriona began at the same moment Steve said, “Now wait a minute—” and Bruce stammered out, “Are you sure you want us around?”

“I’m sure,” Tony said to Bruce, dismissing the other protests and Phil’s challenge with a wave of his hand. “I meant what I said on the helicarrier – you and Jolly Green are welcome at Stark Tower whenever. So are the rest of you.” He shot a look at Phil. “Including your stray SHIELD agents. What did you call them? The Scoobies?”

“Our family.” Clint’s correction was quiet, but firm. “Scoobies, yeah. We also call them the kids.” He lifted his eyes from the floor to make eye contact with Tony. “Thank you.”

The gratitude made Tony flinch. “Don’t mention it.”

Phil led his spouses back to the table, sitting down with one on either side of him. He raised an eyebrow at CJ. “Come on, faireoir. They don’t bite.” He gestured towards the sharpshooter, who approached slowly. He sat down in the empty chair Thor had provided, but was obviously uncomfortable. Clint rose wordlessly and swapped seats with him, putting CJ between himself and Phil. “C’mon, kiddo.” Phil held out an arm, and CJ slid under it. Phil stroked his hand down CJ’s back, feeling the slight tremor.

“You weren’t joking about calling them the kids, huh?” Tony asked. Phil had expected scorn, but there was none.

“You were present when Loki…” Thor trailed off. “You saw Chief Coulson’s wounding, aye?” 

CJ nodded, and Clint laid a hand on his back as well, just below Phil’s arm. “And the healing. Got to remember that part. You sounded the alarm, you got the pixie to him in time, you scared off the Director.” Clint leaned over and kissed CJ’s temple. “Thank you for that, faireoir. You saved our husband.”

“Eat something,” Natasha ordered CJ, passing him a plate. She handed one to Phil as well.

Phil chuckled. “You sound like Mom.” He accepted the plate with his free hand, juggling until he could begin eating.

Silence fell again – that tired, weighty silence. There was more to discuss – more to plan – but for now, the needs of their stomachs came first.

~ * ~


	16. Chapter 16

Eventually everyone had eaten their fill and were beginning to get drowsy. Catriona cleared her throat.

“I believe it is time for another discussion.” She was struggling to stay awake and upright, but she had worked in worse conditions – and she could not allow herself to rest yet. “I have made arrangements for Queen Frigga to be informed – ” Thor made an interrogatory noise and she cut him off with one raised hand, “ – I am sorry, your Highness, but I must save extended explanations for later. For now, suffice it to say that one of my brethren will planewalk to her and inform her.” Thor desisted with one sharp nod. “I expect it will only be a few hours before we can turn Prince Loki and the artifacts – the scepter and the Tesseract – over to the care of the Royal House of Asgard. Once that is accomplished, I fear that I must take my rest… and I would encourage all of you to do the same.” Her eyes fell on the triad. “I have ordered Phil, Natasha, and Clint to take a sabbatical – vacation. They can explain the specifics later, or I will. In the short term, it means that they will need transportation to Iowa – ”

“If you’ve got a pilot, you can borrow one of my jets,” Tony interrupted. “Sorry, Sparkle. Don’t mean to cut you off,” he waved at Catriona. Phil fought to control his expression – because hearing the High Priestess of Gaia called ‘Sparkle’ amused him greatly. To his relief, it didn’t seem to offend Catriona.

“I’ll fly it,” CJ offered immediately. “I’ll take you to the farm and come back. Then in… what, a week?... I’ll pick you up, take you to the Inn. That’s still the plan, right?” Phil nodded, tightening his arm around CJ’s shoulders.

Catriona nodded as well. “That is acceptable. Whilst they are gone – I must spend my time recovering.” She folded her hands and looked down at them in her lap. “I must accept your sanctuary, Doctor Stark.”

Tony looked intently at her for so long that Phil thought he might have to intervene. “You can just call me Tony,” he said finally. “Nobody calls me Doctor Stark, not even Agent. You’re welcome at the Tower, I said that already.”

She looked up at him, frowning. “It is… somewhat more complicated than that.”

“She can’t be left alone,” Phil murmured. “Not for some time, not when she’s this… worn out.” He focused on Tony – being both the owner of the building and the one he thought would most understand. “Catriona has what amount to PTSD flashback nightmares of a very brutal nature, particularly when she is exhausted. If she’s not in physical contact with someone, she wakes up screaming.” Phil shuddered. “We had it happen once, at my parents’ house. I’ve heard a lot of heartbreaking things,” he added quietly, his eyes shifting to Catriona, “but I hope never to hear that sound again.”

“I am sorry, treorai,” Catriona whispered.

“No apologizing for what was done to you,” Clint and Natasha said in unison.

Steve made a small noise of understanding and leaned a little more into Catriona. “I don’t think you’re the only one going to be dealin’ with nightmares,” he said quietly. “I haven’t had very many nights without them since – ” since Bucky fell, but he didn’t want to have that conversation right now “ – since wakin’ up here. I don’t mind bunkin’ down as a group, if it’ll get us all more rest.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at Steve. He’d expected reticence from the man out of time – but then, he’d been in a military encampment just a few months ago – in his time – hadn’t he? Maybe cosleeping to prevent flashbacks wasn’t that outlandish of an idea. “I’m not going to rescind an invitation just because you’re a little needy, Sparkle.” One corner of his lips turned up. “Can’t boot you out for something I deal with myself. Capsicle’s right, I think we’re all going to be fighting that demon. When we get back to the Tower, we can set up a big nest in whatever room looks best – the workshop, maybe, it’s reinforced – and we’ll go from there.” His eyes landed on Bruce. “You going to join us, big guy?”

Bruce sighed. “I can’t decide if you’re brave or stupid, not to fear the other guy.”

Catriona stretched her hand out and touched Bruce’s where it clutched a glass on the table. “I do not fear your otherself, Doctor Banner. Please do me the courtesy of trusting that I am informed enough to make that decision for myself.”

Surprised brown eyes met her green ones. “Well, hell.” Judging by the expression on his face, Bruce hadn’t intended to let those words slip out. “Alright.” He held up his hands in surrender. “At least if the other guy makes an appearance, there are people around that could stop him.” 

Thor shook his head. “I think I will not be, Doctor Banner. I should like very much to fetch Lady Jane and my lightning sister Darcy Lewis from their place of safety.” He saw – but did not understand – Erik’s sudden tension. “I understand they are under the care of Sir Ronan Kerr, but I would rest easier if they were here.”

Tony shrugged. “I’ve got more jets.” He glanced towards CJ. “Unless you want to wait until after the kid gets back from Iowa, and he can take you.”

“He is not a child, Tony,” Phil protested mildly. “He’s an experienced ex-SHIELD agent and a damned good sharpshooter.”

“It’s okay, chief,” CJ murmured into Phil’s shoulder. “I really don’t mind.” His eyes – sparkling with mischief – landed on Tony. “I mean, I am a kid compared to that old man.”

Tony squawked in protest, but it was Phil’s laughter that rang out the loudest. “He’s younger than me, faireoir,” Phil reminded him, ruffling CJ’s hair. 

“I know,” CJ smirked.

Steve looked between CJ and Phil, understanding dawning. “You’re the one Misty calls her little brother, right?” he asked, tilting his head at CJ. At the answering nod, Steve smiled. “She thinks a lot of you. It’s good to put a face to the stories.”

“Wait, that’s… you’re one of Angie’s squad, the fledglings?” Bruce asked.

“Did everybody meet one of Agent’s pets but me?” Tony asked, hiding his irritation.

Phil saw through it – he always did. “There wasn’t time. I assigned Misty to Steve before… before.” It no longer bothered Phil to hear the Scoobies referred to as his pets, or his kids – maybe it was just that there was no longer the threat of SHIELD hanging over them. He wasn’t sure.

“I sent Angie to Bruce in the labs before you were on board,” Natasha added. “He needed another pair of hands. You’ll meet them soon enough.” She paused. “Angie’s anxious to meet you.”

“You’ll like her,” Bruce promised Tony. “She’s smart as a whip, and funny.” He smiled a little, thinking of the young woman. She hadn’t been afraid of him either.

“I do not know that I met any of them,” Thor mused. “I should like to. They must be admirable individuals, for Lady Catriona to call them clan.”

Steve debated with himself, but decided he’d had too long of a day to beat around the bush. “Clan?” He lifted an eyebrow. “The way you use that word, I’m guessin’ it means more than all sharin’ a common ancestor.”

Catriona and Phil exchanged glances, and the druid bowed her head in deference. “We are… well, bonded I suppose is the best word. As a family,” Phil began. Natasha leaned more heavily into his side, and he felt Clint scoot a little closer to. He regretted briefly that Catriona was across the table from them – but at least she looked comfortable between Thor and Steve. “There are thirteen of us in total… though I think that number might increase.” He could feel it happening – could feel connections forming with Tony, Steve, and Bruce. He didn’t think that would be a problem for Steve – the young man needed the anchor of a family – but he feared it would send Tony running for the hills… and maybe Bruce, too.

{You’ve already given Tony a Gaelic name, Moonbeam,} Clint pointed out silently. {He’s already ours.}

Phil’s eyes flickered briefly to his husband. {I know that, but he doesn’t. I need to think on how to bring them in.} He wanted to lean in and kiss Clint – or Natasha – but held back. It wasn’t that he thought the people at the table would object – but he’d seen the weight of grief in Steve’s eyes already and didn’t want to add to it. Thor and Tony were likely also missing their lady loves… Phil could restrain himself for a short while, in order not to make anyone uncomfortable.

Steve made a small, wistful noise. “I look forward to meeting the rest of them.” And seeing Misty again.

“And they you,” Phil promised.

An odd susurration filled the room and as one the occupants turned towards the door. (It would be some time before those at the table realized that they had not heard the bell over the door.) “Mother!” Thor exclaimed, rising immediately.

The Queen of Asgard surveyed the room regally, her hand tucked in the elbow of a wiry man in brown leathers. “I have come for my sons,” she said quietly, her eyes seeking and finding Catriona at the table. “One to leave here, another to take with me.”

~ * ~

“Misty, for the love of the Goddess,” Lance whispered harshly, “get on the fucking plane.”

The squad leader smiled at him, stepping forward to pat his cheek. “No.” 

“Buffy – ” Chuck tried this time, running a hand over his face. “If you don’t go willingly, I’ll pick you up and carry you.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m a child,” Misty flared, shooting both men a glare. 

“Child is exactly why I’m—” Lance protested hotly.

Chuck cut him off with a raised hand. “We’re concerned about – about the cricket.”

“I know.” Her voice softened. “I appreciate that. But I can’t leave.”

Angie, ever reluctant to enter conflict, forced herself to take a deep breath. “It isn’t safe, Misty. Stark’s repairs might not hold. Another engine could fail before the helicarrier gets back into the water.”

“I know.”

“You expect us to just leave you here?” Raj demanded. “You resigned too! If Fury catches you – ”

“He won’t.” Misty held out her arms for a hug, starting with Lance. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.” She shifted to hug each of the remaining Scoobies in turn. “I won’t stay on the helicarrier long, and then I’ll head to New York, to Catriona and CJ.” She smiled a little. “Cricket and I will be fine. Ducks will take care of us. But I can’t leave her yet.”

Sam let out of a huff that made Misty tense up. “We’re not going to change her mind, gang,” she told her squadmates – family. “Let’s just get out of here without making a scene – more of a scene.” She hugged Misty again, tightly. “You fucking call us if someone goes sideways, yeah? I don’t know what the hell we’ll do, but…”

“I will.” Misty ran a hand over Sam’s curly hair, touched at the ferocity. “I want text messages from each of you when you reach your destination, yeah? And I’ll do the same.”

Chuck waited a beat in the still silence before pulling Misty into another hug and kissed her forehead. “This emotionally constipated Marine loves you and the cricket, so be safe, okay?”

“Yeah.” She rested against him a moment before shoving ineffectually at his chest. “Go on, get out of here! Sooner gone, sooner reunited. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

~ * ~

Catriona tried to rise to her feet to greet her old friend. Her legs did not want to support her. She reached for Thor’s help and found Steve’s instead. The supersoldier placed his arm beneath hers and rose slowly – assisting without making an issue of it. She shot him a grateful smile before returning Frigga’s gaze and nodding respectfully. “I should stand on formality in the presence of others, but – anamchara, it is well to see you.” Catriona held out her hands, palm-up, to the Queen. 

Frigga crossed the room to meet her, lush skirts dragging in the dust and debris. She clasped Catriona’s hands and bowed over them, then lifted one to her cheek. “Bright heart, you are weary beyond words. I wish that I could aid you.”

“Aye, and well I know it.” Catriona was dwarfed beside Frigga – but then, who wasn’t she tiny next to? Frigga pulled Thor off to one side to speak in a low hush, releasing Catriona’s hands to do so. The druid nearly lost her balance. Steve surreptitiously supported her again as the individual who had accompanied the Queen approached. “Lorcan.” She duplicated the hand gesture, gratified when he did not hesitate to clasp hers.

“Most holy priestess,” Lorcan rumbled, bowing over her hands. His voice was rough – unused. His eyes flickered about the room, landing on the triad. “It is well to see you again, Warriors – and Guardian.” He offered Phil a small smile, his hands still holding Catriona’s. “I had hoped, when you visited the Sacred Grove, that we would come to count you in our number.” His eyes took in the rest of the table and he released one hand to clasp it to his chest, bowing formally to the table at large. “Chief Lorcan Fitzroy, the Beasttender, Keeper of Gaia.”

At Catriona’s gentle nudge, Steve introduced himself. Bruce, with a wry smile, gave Lorcan both his ‘normal’ name and Hulk’s, accompanied by one brief flash of luminescent green in his eyes. Tony looked like he was debating his answer, but settled for a polite but brief name – no title. “Are you staying?” Catriona asked Lorcan.

“I would prefer not, your Reverence.” He smiled again – a tiny, restrained expression. “I will, of course, do as my Goddess and Priestess wish – but it is my hope that my services are not required here.”

“Too much city, Lorcan?” she asked kindly, squeezing his hand. “Very well. I have no need of you at present. I shall see you again at Litha, aye?”

The wiry man nodded, squeezed her hands one final time, and stepped away. Then, in the space between two heartbeats… he disappeared.

Tony was on his feet almost before he was aware he was moving. “What the hell – ”

“Be at ease, ceannroadai deantoir,” Catriona soothed. She tried to reach for him – to calm him – and nearly fell into Steve. He steadied her easily, shifting so that she could reach Tony. “I apologize that you were alarmed.” Interestingly, she saw not trace of the same upset in Steve or Bruce… but that was for another time.

The engineer flinched away from Catriona’s hand. “Yeah, no.” His eyes landed on Phil as the one most likely to make sense. “What the hell, Agent?”

Phil disentangled himself from spouses and Scooby and circled the table. Before he addressed Tony, he nudged Catriona back into her seat. With a gentle hand, he also pushed Steve back down, encouraging the supersoldier to lean towards Catriona. Then he stepped to Tony, placing a steady hand in his mid-back. “They call it planewalking,” Phil explained quietly. He wasn’t trying to keep the information a secret – merely to use his voice to relax the agitated genius. “They will tell you it is a kind of magic – it may well be. It could also be some form of quantum passage. The mechanism isn’t important – what matters is that druids can cross vast distances by dint of this ability. Where was Lorcan prior to this?” Phil asked Catriona, his voice never wavering from its easy tone.

“Prior to visiting Asgard to fetch the Queen, he was in Moscow.” Catriona fought to keep her eyes from closing despite her increasing fatigue. It would not do to fall into a nightmare now.

“Can you do that?” Tony asked, tipping his head at Phil. The agent’s unflappable manner quieted the worst of his distress.

“I don’t believe so – but then, I am the first Guardian to serve Her,” Phil said with a small smile. “I am in uncharted territory.” He guided Tony back to his seat with the pressure of his fingertips. “Maybe when we get back, you’ll help me do some investigating?”

Tony’s eyes lit up. “That would be – yeah. I mean. I suppose I can find the time.”

{He’s kind of adorable like that,} Clint remarked silently.

{And someday, perhaps we can tell him that.} Phil patted Tony’s back once before winding back around to his seat. “That is, so long as such study is permitted by you and Gaia?” Phil asked Catriona.

The druid jerked out of a near-doze. “Aye, tis allowed.” She bit back a yawn. “Though… it has been some time since Druidic abilities have been studied. Roderick allowed it, some decades ago… but that did not end well.” She leaned more heavily against Steve.

Frigga returned from her hushed conference with Thor, walking back to them with her hand tucked comfortable in Thor’s elbow. “I would like to offer my services to your injured,” she said formally to the table, inclining her head. “I am a Healer much as Lady Catriona – and as she has not the strength to tend your wounds, I would do so in her stead.”

“That is kind of you,” Phil answered after a moment. “My wife and husband sustained minor injuries – if that is not below your notice?” Natasha shot him a look but rose from her chair, Clint a breath behind her. She was limping more obviously now. 

“No injury is below my notice,” Frigga answered – but she was smiling rather than offended. She offered her hands to Natasha as Catriona would. “If it pleases thee, Warrior?”

Natasha settled her palms against Frigga’s and closed her eyes. It wasn’t the same as the healing she’d had from Catriona. That had been more focused – she’d felt warmth where Catriona had laid her hands, and only where her injuries had been. This was… different. Not unpleasant, but definitely odd. It felt like she imagined honey mead would taste… thick and warm and sweet, enveloping her in a blanket of security and comfort. She drew a deep breath, marveling that nothing hurt. When she opened her eyes, she met the Queen’s gaze and smiled. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, child of Gaia,” Frigga answered, squeezing Natasha’s hands once before dropping them. She turned to Clint and performed the same service. When they had both seated themselves again, she turned to the rest. “Chief Coulson? Captain Rogers? Doctor Banner? Doctor Stark?”

“I have no need,” Phil demurred with a wave of his hand. “Catriona took care of me, and I haven’t had time yet to incur new injuries.” He flinched away from Natasha, poking him in the side. “I’m teasing, love. I’ve no intention of running out to get wounded again.”

“No need for me, either.” Bruce smiled at the queen, a little shyly. “I just need food and sleep. The other guy handles the rest.”

Steve nodded. “Same here… the serum has taken care of it.” He held up one arm, showing the slashed uniform and unmarred skin beneath it. 

Tony had been staring at the Queen as she spoke – as she’d healed Clint and Natasha. There’d been no lights or scents, and he hadn’t been able to see a wound actual knit together… but it was hard to dispute the fact that Natasha had limped on her way to Frigga, but not on her way back to her chair. He was of two minds whether to accept. On the one hand… he was beat to hell. He’d fought so many hours in the suit in the past two days that he couldn’t even remember how many fights – and they hadn’t been gentle bouts. He was bruised all over, and a few of them were deep enough to cause concern. He’d fought through two suits being compromised, after all… that was bound to leave a mark. But this was magic, not science – and Tony didn’t know how willing he was to allow it. What if magic interfered with the arc reactor? 

It was on the tip of his tongue to rebuff the offer when Phil caught Tony’s eye. “It’s safe,” Phil promised him quietly. “I wouldn’t let her harm you.” Then, because he knew Tony, he added, “After all, Mister Stark… if something happens to you, who would upgrade my taser?”

Tony chuckled, his shoulders slumping a little. “Yeah, okay.” He rose stiffly to his feet. Rather than have him walk to her, Frigga crossed to him and held out her hands. Tony looked at her palms for a moment before placing his hands in hers. Whatever he’d expected to feel – it wasn’t this. It reminded him of one of Rhodey’s long hugs… the strongest impression was of warmth. There was also an unfamiliar sense of… home? Safety? A heartbeat before it could become overwhelming, Frigga withdrew her hands.

“You have a strong spirit,” Frigga complimented him gravely. “And your heart’s device is a masterful creation.”

Concerned, Tony lifted a hand to his chest – but the arc reactor seemed fine. He blew out a relieved breath – and his lungs didn’t hurt. Huh. That was new. His chest had hurt, at some level or another, ever since Afghanistan. “Thanks,” he said belatedly to the Queen.

She smiled. “It has been my honor.” She turned and spotted Erik in the corner. “Allow me to tend this last wound, and then I shall take my son home.”

Erik didn’t outright object to her approach, but his unease was obvious. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, ma’am. Your Majesty.”

“Your eyes are pinched with pain, Doctor Selvig,” Frigga chided. “I would be grateful if you would allow me to ease that pain. As a mother, and a Healer, it is my wish to alleviate all suffering.” He sighed but held out his hands. When she was finished, she brushed a hand over his face. “Your family keeps many of the old ways,” she murmured. “You knew my son for who he is, when he first arrived here. For your knowledge and guidance, I thank you.”

Without giving him time to respond, she stepped away. “I believe it is time for me to take my leave. The artifacts?” Thor hurried to gather the canvas bag holding the scepter and Tesseract. “And then… my son?” Natasha pointed towards the ladies room. Frigga smiled – though it was closer to a smirk. “Very well, then.” She took the bag from Thor and kissed his cheek. “I shall depart from there, aye? It has been lovely to see you again, Catriona… I do hope you will come see me soon.”

“I shall endeavor to find the time, anamchara,” Catriona promised.

Frigga’s eyes moved around the room, locking with each of them. Returning to Thor’s, she smiled again. “You are in good hands, my son. Listen to Lady Catriona and Chief Coulson,” she advised, lifting a hand to his cheek. “You have much to learn from them.” With a final nod, she swept into the bathroom. There was a startled sound from Loki – and then silence. Thor called Mjolnir to him and set it on the ground next to his seat.

“Well.” Phil blew out a long breath. “That was somewhat anticlimactic.”

“Guess it’s time to blow this popsicle stand.” Tony pointed at CJ. “Plane’s ready for you. Head to the airstrip – I just sent directions to your phone – and you can be in the air in twenty. Ignore Air Traffic Control… you’ll have clearance by the time you take off.”

“Go on ahead,” Phil told CJ. “We’ll join you shortly.” CJ raised an eyebrow. Phil stood and offered a hand to each of his spouses. “We’re going to make a short detour, and then we’ll meet you at the plane.”

“Alright.” CJ eyed him a little warily, but did nod his agreement. With a slight wave, he departed the restaurant for the airstrip.

Phil turned to Tony as Clint and Natasha got to their feet, checking to make sure they hadn’t left any weapons behind. “Mister Stark – Tony.” Phil smiled a little. “We appreciate the use of your plane – and the sanctuary for our clan.”

“Don’t mention it.” Tony squirmed a little. “I just want you where I can get to you when I need you.”

“Right.” Phil didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. He turned to Catriona. “Little one… remember your promise to me. Rest.” He stressed the word. “Don’t make me fly back here just because you’re being stubborn.”

“Yes, treorai.” There were hugs from each of the triad for the druid – then they were off. The bell over the door chimed as it closed behind them.

Catriona yawned, covering it with a trembling hand. “Might we retire as well?”

“I would rather depart for Tromso.” Thor rose from his seat, careful not to jostle Catriona where she rested against Steve. “If my services are not required?”

Steve realized everyone was looking at him, and bit back a sigh. “I don’t have a problem with that. You’ll be coming back here with – what was it, Jane and Darcy?”

“Aye. The Lady Jane and my lightning sister, Darcy.”

“Right.” Steve nodded like that made complete sense to him… he was good at faking that expression. “Safe travels.” Thor crossed a hand over his chest and bowed towards Steve before seizing Mjolnir’s handle and striding out of the restaurant.

Tony sized up the exhausted Bruce and nearly-drowsing Catriona. “Tower,” he decided. “It’s probably easier to walk than to try and get a car through this mess.” He paused. “I can carry you in the suit, Lady Catriona, if you’re too tired to walk.”

“We’ll take turns,” Steve decided, when the druid didn’t immediately answer. She seemed to already be dropping off to sleep. “I don’t know if you holding her in the suit will prevent a nightmare or not, but we can try.”

“I can take a turn too,” Bruce said. The three men stood in unison, and Steve swung Catriona into his arms. She curled tightly against him, sound asleep. “Hard to believe someone so tiny can have that kind of power, isn’t it?”

Steve looked down at the sleeping druid and smiled, a little wryly. “Nah. That part’s kinda familiar. Bu – someone used to say pretty much the same thing about me, before the serum.”

~ * ~

By the time Maria Hill made it to her quarters on the helicarrier, she was weary in both mind and body. Goddess, she wished she could get off this damned ship – get to her clan, curl up in safety of their presence, and reassure herself that everyone was alive and safe. She wasn’t going to get any of that, she knew. Hell, she was lucky to get the six hour break she was on – and she was only getting that because SHIELD technicians were locking all but critical operations out of the helicarrier’s mainframe until they could finish a delicate repair.

She pushed open the door to her quarters, turned and locked it behind her, and immediately began stripping off sweat-stained clothes, trying to decide which she needed more; food, sleep, or a shower.

A movement in the shadows of her bunk made Maria reach for her sidearm. “Ducks? Is that you?” Misty said sleepily from the bed.

Emotion flooded Maria. She’d thought Misty had left with the Scoobies, and that she’d be alone with her nightmares tonight. She was grateful that wasn’t the case – and full of love that Misty wanted to be here – terrified because the helicarrier was not one hundred percent and she didn’t want Misty and the cricket anywhere near it – and angry, because Misty had had a chance to get off the damned ship, but had stayed. “Who else would it be?” she asked, swallowing a lump in her throat. Relief at seeing Misty was swamping the other emotions.

“Dunno.” There was a rustling of blankets. “C’mere, ducks.”

Maria slid into the bed, into the already-warm pocket and wrapping her arms around Misty. Burying her head in the blonde hair, Maria let out a shaking sigh that was almost a sob. “What the hell are you doing still here, bunny?” She’d meant it to sound like a demand, but it came out softer than she’d intended.

“Needed you.” Misty started stroking her fingers through Maria’s hair, along her scalp, across her face. “Couldn’t leave without seeing you.” Her fingers caught on the small cut on Maria’s forehead. “Came too close to losing you.”

“It’s barely a scratch,” Maria protested. “Didn’t warrant anything more than steristrips.”

“Meant more than that, love.” The endearment brought the tears Maria had been fighting right to the surface. “You were on the bridge when the assault team tried to take it – and I was stuck down in tactical. You stuck me down in tactical.”

“You were safe there.” The words were almost unintelligible, scrambled by emotion and squeezed out between Maria’s lips and Misty’s neck. “I needed you and the cricket to be safe to do my job, bunny. I couldn’t – Goddess, I couldn’t think with you on the bridge. I’m sorry.”

Misty had tears on her cheeks now too. “I know. I’m not mad – I get it.” Her soft caresses continued as her ducks – lover? girlfriend? partner? – shook in her arms. “I was upset at first, but… I realized I’d have done the same thing if I could have. Particularly if you were the one carrying the cricket.”

A full body shudder startled both of them into weak chuckles. “Sorry. The idea of me pregnant is…” Maria shook her head against Misty. “You make it look easy and beautiful and amazing, and that’s intimidating as hell.”

“I guess I’ll let you get away with quaking at the idea of carrying our child since you also called me beautiful,” Misty teased.

Emotion swamped Maria again – more, this time. Hot and immediate and overwhelming. “Our child,” she repeated into Misty’s neck. “Goddess, bunny, that’s our son or daughter in there.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m not mad – and why, even if we hadn’t all quit SHIELD today… I’m done,” Misty said softly. “Even if I were willing to risk myself and our baby… none of the rest of you were at a hundred percent today, because you were worried about the cricket. I can’t do that to my team. No matter what capacity we wind up serving – and I’m sure Sensei will find us one – I’m not going back out in the field. Not until the baby’s born, and probably not even then.”

“Thank the Goddess,” Maria breathed. “I knew I couldn’t ask, but – yeah, I need that.” She shifted again, lifting her head so that she could gaze at Misty in the faint light of her quarters.

“Which means…” Misty said, her voice dropping to a low whisper, “that this is our last chance to enact one of my personal fantasies. Tomorrow morning I’ll stow away on a shuttle and get back to ground, get to Catriona and the clan. Tonight…” Misty stretched up to kiss Maria. “How is it nascha says it? I want to fraternize on SHIELD property, ducks.”

Maria blinked. “Bunny… we haven’t… fraternized… properly at all. You sure you want to do that… here… now?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Misty said, pulling Maria closer. “Make love to me, Maria. Red hot thank-the-Goddess-we’re-not-dead sex, with the added bonus of illicit-location and last-first-time.”

“Last first time?” Maria repeated as she let her hands roam over Misty’s skin.

The blonde smiled, sliding a hand around the back of Maria’s head to draw her in for a tender kiss. “I don’t intend to ever have another first time with a partner. Best make it count, ducks.”

~ * ~

Phil consulted the map on his phone again, pausing in the rubble-filled street. It wasn’t too off the path – they would likely only be ten or fifteen minutes behind CJ. “This way.” He tugged at Clint’s hand.

“What are we doing that’s more important than following CJ?” Clint asked. He picked his way around a crushed car with one hand in Phil’s and the other in Natasha’s. 

“You’ll see.”

“Cryptic is a good look on you,” Natasha said drily. “And it’s not fair that you’re picking up this whole shielding-us-from-your-mind thing this fast.”

Phil shot her an amused smile. “I think it’s a side effect of years of being a handler, the ability to compartmentalize. Ah… here we go.” He pulled open the door to a bakery.

Inside, it was much as the shawarma restaurant had been – wrecked, shell-shocked, but not closed. There was a young man already beginning to sweep up glass, and an older woman behind the counter. “Can I help you?”

Stepping up to the counter, Phil pulled out his wallet. “I’d like every powdered sugar donut you’ve got made.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap for Assembly Line. Thank you for sticking around. The next two fics run concurrently -- which will be an adventure for me, because I've never done that. First chapters of each of them should be up within the next couple of days, depending on the willingness of the muse.
> 
> I appreciate each and every view, kudos, and comment! I also welcome suggestions, fond wishes, and plot speculation. If you want to connect with me off AO3, leave me a comment and we can trade info.


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